


Pure

by royalwatson



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, F/M, Good Draco, Good Slytherins, Half-Blood Prince AU, Hogwarts Era, Homophobia, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9363251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royalwatson/pseuds/royalwatson
Summary: Harry Potter is terrified of food. Draco Malfoy is terrified for his life. An unlikely friendship forms when the 2 come together to save each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 6th year AU! Everything that's happened in the previous years still stand.
> 
> English was one of my worst subjects in school so I apologize profusely if there are any grammatical mistakes! (There are probably tons, yikes) Also, this is my first time writing a fic so I hope it's alright :) Seeing as how I wrote this out of boredom, I didn't actually plan the entire story all the way through so please bear with me as I try to figure everything out. 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

Harry ignored the pounding in his head and blearily opened his eyes to see the harsh white ceiling of the infirmary. _Bloody hell_. What has he done this time? Quidditch accident? He looked down at himself and sighed. No, he was still in his school robes. He lifted a hand to gently touch the side of his head. _Ouch_. Did he run into a wall? It wouldn't have been the first time Harry had run into inanimate objects. Groaning, he tried to ease himself up into a sitting position as he heard a set of feet rush over to his side.

“Mister Potter. How are you feeling?” Madam Pomfrey asked as she stood over him, frantically waving her wand over his body casting various spells.

“I’m fine I think. My heads pounding though,” Harry grunted out as he reached over to his bedside table trying to grab his glasses.

“Yes, well you took quite a fall. You’re lucky Mister Malfoy was there to catch you before you hit the floor too hard.” At that, Harry shoved the glasses on to his face and sat up even straighter, noticing for the first time the tall and lanky, blond haired boy standing awkwardly behind Madam Pomfrey looking firmly down at the ground.

“Malfoy?” Harry spluttered out, surprise and bewilderment evident in his tone. He opened his mouth to say more when the blond hastily spoke.

“ _Yes_ , Potter,” Draco sneered. “Congratulations. Despite hitting your abnormally large head on the floor, you still seem to be able to remember my name.”

Harry glared at Malfoy.

Of course the light haired Slytherin was still a prat. He didn’t know why he expected this year to be any different. Sure, maybe Malfoy had come back from the summer looking less pointy and more sharp-and-well-defined-angles, but he was still as big as a twat as he’d always been. And yeah, maybe Harry had found himself gazing at the boy with more admiration and less hatred, but he could hardly be blamed. He had just recently realized his preference towards the same gender and he figured it was only natural to be curious. _And_ it was satisfying to finally know just why he had seemed to be so interested in Cedric Diggory back in 4th year.

He turned to the mediwitch and frowned. “What happened?” He asked, wincing as he tenderly touched the side of his head again.

“Well….” Madam Pomfrey trailed off looking at Draco.

Harry shifted his gaze to see Malfoy roll his eyes before sighing. “I don’t know either,” he snapped. “One minute you were chopping up wormwood — quite horribly I might add — and the next minute you were falling. Couldn’t handle the pressure of brewing a new potion, Potter? I’m so sorry that I gave the Golden Boy the horrible task of cutting up a _plant_ ,” Malfoy sneered and lifted his chin in the air in disgust. “If I was paired up with a partner who actually had a brain, I wouldn’t be missing valuable class time stuck in the infirmary with a helpless oaf.”

Harry scowled. “Then leave, Malfoy. No one’s asked you to stay here.” _I didn’t actually mean that. You may be an annoying wanker, but you’re an attractive, annoying wanker. Please stay with me until I feel better… or at least until Ron and Hermione get here. Where are they anyways? Surely they would’ve heard of this by now?_ Harry stopped his musing as he saw Malfoy turn towards the door as if to leave. He soon pivoted on his heel, however, and faced Harry as he crossed his arms.

“I do what I want, Potter.” He paused for a moment, scrunching his nose up in distaste before adding, “You insufferable git.” His steely, grey eyes bore holes into Harry’s.

“Boys!” Madam Pomfrey huffed out. Draco rolled his eyes again and made a great effort of adjusting his green and silver tie, looking at anything but Harry.

Harry mumbled out an insincere “sorry,” and thought back to their Potions class. He remembered feeling ill when he had caught the scent of the new potion they were brewing. Fame Remedium. The hunger cure potion. It was meant to be given to homeless witches and wizards — curing them of their hunger for 24 hours. The potion smelled differently to each individual depending on what their favorite foods were. Harry had smelled the unbearably sweet scent of Treacle Tart and had immediately felt like vomiting.

“I’ve done many tests on you Mister Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said, shaking Harry out of his thoughts. “And you seem to be fine albeit a bit thin.” Pomfrey frowned and Malfoy sniggered into his hand. Harry cast him a half-hearted glare and spoke to the witch.

“I’ve just been stressed about the NEWTS. Been studying in my spare time.” He shrugged and started fiddling with a stray piece of thread hanging off his blanket.

Madam Pomfrey sounded incredulous. “The NEWTS? You’re only a 6th year!”

Harry peered up at her and grinned sheepishly. “I’ve got Hermione as one of my best mates. And you know how she is…” He trailed off and Madam Pomfrey nodded in understanding.

“Yes well I suppose it is good to get an early start. I’m sure Dumbledore will be quite proud Mister Potter.”

Malfoy scoffed and crossed his arms. “Oh I'm sure Dumbledaft will be positively _beaming_ when he hears what his favorite Gryffindork has been up to in his free time.” A look of disdain made its way onto the blonds face.

“Mister Malfoy!” Pomfrey turned and clucked her tongue at him disapprovingly. “I would hope a fine young man like yourself would know to treat his elders with respect.”

Malfoy shrugged and looked away as he mumbled under his breath. “Sorry. _Headmaster_ Dumbledaft.”

Despite wanting to feel indignant on the headmaster’s behalf, Harry couldn’t stop his face from twisting into an unwanted grin as he overheard the snarky blonde’s quiet jest. He let out a small snort and quickly darted his eyes away as Malfoy whipped his head up at the sound.

“As I was saying before, Mister Potter,” Madam Pomfrey continued, annoyance now lacing her tone. “You can be released after dinner.”

“Dinner?” Harry frowned at her in confusion. “Er... If you said everything was fine, can’t I leave before then?”

“I can deal with the headache,” he added as an afterthought.  

“I’m afraid not. I would like you to eat in here tonight. As good as it is that you are focusing on your NEWTS, a growing boy like yourself must get the proper nutrients.” Harry froze for a minute, a panicked expression flashing across his face before he attempted to school his features back to look nonchalant.

“Can’t I just eat in the Great Hall?” He questioned, shifting uncomfortably under the cool, scrutinizing gaze of Malfoy. Madam Pomfrey’s face twitched in barely concealed amusement as she accio-ed a small vial to her hand. “You can sit with your housemates tomorrow. It’s just for tonight. I’m sure Mister Weasley and Miss Granger can handle a night without you.”

Harry nodded in defeat and sighed. He knew it was no use arguing with the witch. _It’s just for tonight._ He can get through one bloody night eating a proper meal. And then he can rush to the safety of Gryffindor Tower and punish himself to his heart’s content. Harry let out another breath and ran a hand through his already messy hair.

“Drink this. It’ll ease the ache in your head and lull you to sleep. I’ll wake you in time for dinner.” She handed the glass vial to Harry and he reluctantly threw his head back, drinking it in one go. He shuddered and passed the glass back to the witch.

“Thank you,” he mumbled before slowly relaxing against the bed. He took his glasses off and set them on the bedside table before drawing the covers up to his chin and shutting his eyes.

“Oh!” Madam Pomfrey’s surprised voice rang through the empty infirmary and Harry shot his eyes open, craning his neck around to look at the witch. “Mister Malfoy. I didn’t realize you were still here. You can go back to class and let Professor Snape know of Mister Potter’s situation.” He briefly made eye contact with the blond, heart hammering in his chest the whole while, and watched as Madam Pomfrey shooed Malfoy out the door before turning back to head into her office.

Relaxing back against the bed, Harry rest his head against the pillows and exhaled. He closed his eyes and shifted under the blankets, allowing the potion to slowly succumb him to sleep.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“I’m afraid not. I would like you to eat in here tonight. As good as it is that you are focusing on your NEWTS, a growing boy like yourself must get the proper nutrients.”

Draco saw panic flick across the dark haired boy’s features as he visibly stiffened before trying to regain composure.

“Can’t I just eat in the Great Hall?” His eyes narrowed as he peered at Potter who shifted uncomfortably under his cool gaze. What was wrong with the prat? He looked like the Dark Lord himself had invited Potter to eat dinner with him. He studied him carefully, studiously examining his small and thin figure.

Draco frowned.

The scarhead looked thinner than usual. He was practically swimming in his school robes. Why did the oh so mighty Chosen One look so.... fragile? He stored this information to the back of his brain to be thoroughly investigated later. Oh, Pansy was going to go batshit crazy over this. She always complained about how unfair it was that Potter seemed to lose weight without even trying.

_“You know Pans, for someone who hates him so much, you sure do spend a massive amount of time talking about him.” Draco smiled over his goblet of pumpkin juice and raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Are you sure you don’t fancy him? I can see the headline on the Daily Prophet now. Golden Boy and Slytherin’s Princess do the dirty.” His eyes widened in surprise and he let out a small yelp as a silver fork barreled over his head. He heard Blaise let out a snort of laughter._

_“Really Draco? You’re one to talk,” he drawled. “You’ve been obsessed with him since first year. Though I can see why.” He twisted around to look at the Gryffindor table. Draco followed his gaze and saw Potter flailing his fork around as he talked avidly to the sea of Weasley’s that flooded the Gryffindor table. Draco narrowed his eyes and huffed in annoyance before shifting his attention back to Blaise, who was still looking thoughtfully at Harry._

_“He is pretty cute... in a messy, boyish way,” Blaise continued. Now it was Blaise’s turn to duck as Draco hurled his half full goblet at him. “Ooh, jealous are we?” He and Pansy let out a bark of laughter at Draco’s half horrified, half mortified expression._

_“Absolutely not.” Draco sniffed as he reached for Pansy’s pumpkin juice. “You can have him if you want Zabini.”_

_Blaise rose his eyebrows in mock surprise. “I didn’t know you and Potter were into that. Threesomes? Kinky.”_

_Draco choked on his drink and glowered at Blaise. “Kindly piss off,” he mumbled, feeling the flush rising to his cheeks. He took one last swig of juice to cool his rapidly warming face before reaching down for his book bag. He tossed it over one shoulder as he gracefully got up out of his seat and made a beeline to the doors of the Great Hall before Pansy or Blaise could make any more ludicrous jokes about his ‘Potter Obsession’ as they liked to call it._

_“Have fun shagging your boyfriend, Draco! Thanks for the offer, but I’m more of a one bloke at a time sort of guy.”_

_He quickened his pace and threw open the doors with a big bang. He heard the loud cackles of Pansy, Blaise and even Crabbe and Goyle following him as he made his way down the corridor._

_Bloody hell._

_Ever since Blaise had come out to him and their fellow Slytherins, he’d been making all sorts of lewd jokes. Draco leaned against the wall, raised a shaky hand to his face, and gripped his cheeks, desperately hoping for the blush to go down. Fuck Pansy. Fuck Blaise. Fuck Potter! Draco’s eyes widened as he felt the all too familiar rush of blood heading down towards his groin. On second thought, no, don’t fuck potter. Bad idea, Draco. He groaned in frustration and hastily headed down to the dungeons, thanking Merlin that the rest of the 6th year boys were still enjoying their lunch. He would have the dorms to himself._

“You can sit with your housemates tomorrow.”

He was quickly shaken out of his reverie and flushed as he heard the sound of Pomfrey’s voice.

“It’s just for tonight. I’m sure Mister Weasley and Miss Granger can handle a night without you.”

Draco let out a quiet scoff. Potter, the weasel, and the mudblood were all joined at the hip. Not seeing the twit in the Great Hall would probably panic the idiots. He rolled his eyes for what seemed like the 10th time that day and drew his attention back to Potter, who was currently handing a small vial back to Pomfrey.

“Thank you,” the dark haired boy muttered before attempting to get comfortable in the hospital bed.

“Oh!” Madam Pomfrey’s surprised voice rang through the empty infirmary and Draco tore his eyes away from Potter’s back to gaze coolly at the witch. “Mister Malfoy. I didn’t realize you were still here. You can go back to class and let Professor Snape know of Mister Potter’s situation.” He cast one more glance at Harry who was now staring at him with an unreadable expression in his eyes before Draco spun around and headed out the infirmary doors.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“Mister Potter?”

Harry groggily blinked his eyes open as he tried to remember where he was. He met the soft gaze of Madam Pomfrey and sighed as memories came rushing back.

Oh. The infirmary. Right.

He turned over and sat up in bed, reaching for his glasses and putting them on as the witch handed him a silver tray filled with food.

“There you go dear. Eat that and you’ll be good to go!” She smiled cheerfully as Harry sat up and reluctantly reached for the tray.

“Thank you,” he muttered, though he didn’t feel thankful at all. She gave him a firm nod and headed back into her office.

Harry sighed and gave the food on the tray a quick scan, looking for anything that was even remotely healthy. He settled on a bowl of pasta and tentatively poked his fork into it. Grimacing, he watched the tips of the fork sink into the soft noodle. He half heartedly moved the food around, stirring it for no reason. Feeling a gaze on him, Harry looked up and saw the concerned frown of Madam Pomfrey observing him from her office. He gave her a big lopsided grin and raised his fork in the air as if to say hello, and the small piece of pasta still stuck to the fork dangled off the end before falling back into the bowl. She sighed, exasperated, and turned her head just as Harry saw the corner of her lips curve into a small smile.

Satisfied at distracting Pomfrey for the time being, he brought his attention back to the tray of food. It was impossible to not eat anything with Madam Pomfrey watching him like a hawk. Even though she was sitting with her back facing Harry, he knew that the witch would be able to tell if Harry had eaten or not. Though she seemed to have bought his excuse of stressing about the NEWTS, refusing to eat dinner would immediately set off alarm bells in the witch’s head. Reluctantly, Harry stabbed the fallen pasta again with his fork and hesitantly brought it up to his mouth. His face warped into disgust as the small lump of food made it's way onto his tongue. He chewed slowly, thinking of all the calories and fats he was — _willingly!_ — putting into his body and shuddered at the thought. Finally after what seemed like forever, he gulped the food down and reached for his water. Throwing his head back, he chugged the entire contents of the goblet, welcoming the familiar coolness of the fresh and pure liquid.

_Pure._

Harry liked that word. It reminded him of everything he was not, and everything he strived to be. Harry was never pure. Even as a child, he was polluted with all the evil and darkness of the world. At the measly age of 1, he was shown the dark powers of the world’s most powerful wizard. And because of that, his parents were dead. Which led him to be cared for by his pathetic muggle relatives who beat him and abused him and starved him on a day to day basis. Harry guessed that that’s where all of this stemmed up from. His sad excuse of a family. He shook his head.

 _No_.

No matter how much he wanted to blame others for his faults, he knew it was all him. If he had never been born, Voldemort wouldn’t have gone after his parents and they could have been living a happy, normal life. If he had never been born, he wouldn’t have been sent to the Dursley’s after the death of James and Lily, and they could have gone on with their own lives, happily oblivious to the wizarding world.

Harry ruined everyone he met with a bit of his darkness, his _dirtiness_.

Ron and Hermione never chose to be in the war against Voldemort. They were thrown into it, because of Harry. His happiness at finding friends his first year at Hogwarts was short lived when he realized he had tainted his best friends. Not to mention Ginny, Sirius, and even Draco bloody Malfoy. Ginny nearly got killed in his 2nd year, Sirius — his godfather, his only remaining family — died while fighting for Harry, and Malfoy, well Malfoy had always been nasty, but he reckoned if he had just accepted his bloody hand back in their 1st year, they wouldn’t have had such a massive rivalry between them. Maybe they could have even been friends. He snorted. Well, it was much too late to offer a hand of friendship now. He had to try his damn hardest to be _pure_. Harry refused to corrupt anyone else. Malfoy included.

He had been so lost in thought that he nearly flipped his tray of food over when he saw Madam Pomfrey staring down at him with her hands on her hips. She cleared her throat.

“Mister Potter, I do not wish to ask you again to eat your food.” She inspected him intently for a moment before pointedly directing her eyes to the still full tray of food.

Harry looked up at her timidly and reached for his fork. Not wanting to cause another thorough check up of him from the mediwitch, he stabbed through three pastas and hesitantly placed them on his tongue. Wincing only slightly, he chewed thoughtfully and swallowed the food down with his water. Sensing Madam Pomfrey’s sharp gaze still directed at him, he poked at a few more bits of pasta and put them into his mouth. Trying to ignore the clenching and unclenching of his stomach, he forced himself to swallow and again took another big gulp of his water. Seemingly satisfied, Madam Pomfrey shuffled her way back into her office, but not before glancing back at Harry. He gave her a small smile and made a big show of shoving the remaining bits of pasta into his mouth. As soon as the witch turned her back, Harry reached for the napkin on the end of his tray and hastily spat out the gross lumps of chewed up pasta. His stomach was already tightened uncomfortably, not used to having food in it, and Harry felt as if he was going to be sick right there in the infirmary.

“Er, Madam Pomfrey?” Harry shook his head out nervously, his hand tightening around his scrunched up napkin, now in the pocket of his robes. The witch stuck her head out of her office regarding Harry curiously.

“Could I go back to my dorm now? Dinner’s over and I finished mine and you said I could leave as soon as I was done…” He trailed off, uncertain if the mediwitch was actually going to let him go. To his relief, she nodded.

“Of course. You wouldn’t want to keep Mister Weasley and Miss Granger waiting.”

Harry grinned. “Thanks Madam Pomfrey!” He quickly set the tray on his bedside table which promptly disappeared and he jumped out of bed. Feeling slightly dizzy from the sudden movement, he clutched onto the bed railing and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Harry was all too used to this. He slowly counted to ten before opening his eyes. With his dizziness leaving as quickly as it had come, he let go of the railing and looked around to make sure the witch didn’t see him. Satisfied to see her still in her office, he headed towards the infirmary doors when he heard a small cough sound from behind him.

“Your wand, Mister Potter.” Harry turned to see Madam Pomfrey sticking her head out of the doorway, his wand in one hand, as she gazed at Harry in amusement. He smiled at her sheepishly and went to grab the wand from her when she suddenly brought her hand back. He looked at her, startled, and opened his mouth to speak when she held up a hand and rose to her feet.

“Mister Potter,” she paused. “Harry.” She peered at him intently and Harry shifted from foot to foot, nervous about the sudden severity in her usually gentle, blue eyes.

“Er... Yes?”

“Please do try to eat more. I realize you are busy with classes and homework and friends and NEWTS,” she smiled softly at that and continued, “but as I’ve mentioned before, a growing boy must eat. I was not exaggerating earlier when I said you looked thin.” She pursed her lips as Harry’s mouth formed a small ‘o’, startled at the words that had come out of the witch’s mouth. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“Of course Madam Pomfrey.” He tilted his head in understanding. “I’ll have to tell Hermione I can’t study that much with her anymore. Guess Ron and I can pig out in the Great Hall more often now.” He smiled at her, the lie slipping easily off his tongue. She scrutinized him for a moment longer before smiling in return and handing his wand back to him.

“Good to hear. Right, run along now Mister Potter. Have a good night.”

“Goodnight Madam Pomfrey.” Harry gave a small wave and clutched his wand to his chest as he quickly strode out of the infirmary, sighing in relief when he was out of sight.

Now he had nothing to worry about except the pasta sitting heavily in his stomach. He walked hurriedly to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, knowing that no other student — well, no other _living_ student — would be in the lavatory. Feeling the all too familiar sensation of bile rising up his throat, he quickened his pace, barely making it to the first stall before vomiting inside the toilet. He vaguely heard the shrill giggles coming from above him, but paid it no mind as he raised two fingers and stroked the back of his throat, causing him to expel the rest of the contents of his stomach. He clutched the side of the toilet, eyes shut tight and watering slightly, as he repeated the motion. It was like second nature to him. He continued to stroke the back of his throat, ignoring the burning pain, and only stopped when he started to dry heave.

_Finally._

It felt good to get the foreign substance out of his body. He was pure again.

Unsteadily standing up, he made his way to one of the sinks and turned the tap on. Cupping his hands together, he caught the flowing water and raised it to his mouth, swishing the liquid around before spitting it out into the sink. He repeated the motion, but instead used the cool water to splash his face. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and looked at himself in the mirror. Harry frowned as he saw his own reflection. Had he always looked so sickly? Convinced that the mirror was playing tricks on him, he shut the tap off and adjusted his robes as he made his way to the door, stopping when he heard a small giggle from behind him.

“Oh Harry?” He slowly turned around to come face to face with Moaning Myrtle and he widened his eyes, taking an uneasy step back.

”Er, yes, Myrtle?”  

She peered at him from behind her glasses with a sinister smile on her face. “You look good.”

 Harry, startled, blurted, “I do?”  

Myrtle grinned gleefully before floating right next to Harry. He tensed as he felt the cool air right beside his ear. “Oh, yes. You look like _death_.” She let out a high pitched giggle and swiftly flew over a stall before diving into the toilet.

Harry froze, perturbed by her words, before he shook his head and reached for the door handle again letting himself out of the lavatory. As he made his way to Gryffindor Tower, he smiled softly to himself, replaying Myrtles words over and over again in his head.

_You look good._

_You look like death._

Stopping just outside of the Fat Lady, he let out an uneasy laugh and quickly pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind.

“Fortuna Major.”

The portrait swung open and he walked into the common room, waving at Dean and Seamus who were in the middle of a very intense game of Wizard’s chess. Dean looked up and nodded at him before turning back to the game, swearing as one of his pawns got shattered.

Harry trudged his way up the stairs to the boys dormitory, happy to see it all to himself but also sad to see Ron’s empty bed. He let out a small sigh. He was half expecting his red haired friend to be waiting for him, no doubt the news of his accident reaching every available ear at Hogwarts, but Ron was nowhere to be seen. Ron and Hermione had just recently gotten together and he imagined they were quite preoccupied with one another. Harry was happy for them, really he was, but he noticed that they were too caught up with each other to pay even the slightest bit of attention to him. It was all for the best really.

Letting out another sigh, he rummaged through his drawers, finding an oversized sweater and long drawstring sweats. He quickly stripped to just his boxers, shivering slightly as the cool air hit his skin, and slipped the warm sweater over his head. He awkwardly jumped into his bottoms and pulled them up, pulling the strings on his pants as tight as they would go. Despite it being only the first week of November, the air both inside and outside the castle was unseasonably chilly. The slightly warmer, Autumn air was briskly turning colder as Winter approached. He honestly wouldn’t have been that surprised if he were to look out the window and see snow. According to the others, Hogwarts felt perfectly toasty, but Harry was always unnaturally cold.

Shuffling over to his bed, he drew the sheets back and crawled in, happy to get away from the chilly air. He set his glasses on his night table and closed the thick red curtains around his four poster bed. Warm and content, he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of blond hair and a pure Harry.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is terrified of food. Draco Malfoy is terrified for his life. An unlikely friendship forms when the 2 come together to save each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mosty Draco-centric. Enjoy!

Harry woke up the next morning to a completely empty dorm room. Rubbing his eyes, he reached over to retrieve his glasses and wand from the bedside table and cast a _Tempus_ charm.

_8:50 am_

“Shite!” Throwing the covers aside, Harry jumped out of bed and hastily made his way over to his trunk. He changed as fast as he could, hopping up and down as he tried to pull his trousers on and fix his tie simultaneously. Not bothering to look in the mirror to check his appearance, he roughly grabbed his books that were scattered around the dormitory floor and threw himself out of the room.

He kept up a string of curses as he jogged to the transfiguration classroom and by the time he reached the door, Harry was breathing so heavily he had to lean against the wall for a moment to catch his breath. Putting his hands on his knees, he fought the urge to sink down onto the stone floor. His legs where achy, it was difficult to breathe, and why, oh why, was this happening more and more often? Taking another deep breath, he pushed himself off the wall. He hurriedly smoothed down his robes and tried to regulate his breathing as he made his way into the classroom. Realizing class hadn’t started yet, he sighed in relief and headed towards the empty seat behind Ron and Hermione.

“Harry!” Hermione cried. She twisted around in her seat to face him. “Where were you? You weren’t at breakfast this morning!”

Harry harshly carded a hand through his sleep mused hair and adjusted his school books. “Overslept,” he mumbled. “Thanks for leaving without me by the way.” He glanced at Ron who had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Er, sorry mate, but I heard about your accident in potions yesterday so I figured you could use a bit of a lie in. Besides, they served those croissant sandwiches at breakfast that I like so much and I wanted to get there before Seamus took the whole lot.” He ducked his head as Hermione attempted to flick his forehead.

“Honestly Ronald, even if you got there 30 minutes late, there would have been plenty left. You’re a bottomless pit!” Despite her words, she was staring at him fondly.

Ron grinned and gave Hermione a quick peck on the cheek. “Yeah, but that’s what you love about me.” She blushed and Harry looked away uncomfortably. He couldn’t help but feel a little bit left out as Ron and Hermione’s relationship slowly progressed. On the now rare occasion when the 3 of them hung out, Harry spent more time thinking about Malfoy than actually paying attention to whatever topic they were discussing.

_I wonder if this is how Zabini feels when Malfoy and Parkinson are together. What’s Malfoy see in that girl anyway? Sure, she’s pretty in a strange pug-like way and yeah, the other boys like to whisper about how foreign she looks, being part asian and all, but really? Cho is so much prettier and kinder and okay, Parkinson looks like she would be a better snogger, but — ugh — Parkinson and snogging should not belong in the same sentence. Anyways, Malfoy could do so much better. He deserves someone better. Someone like me! Now if only he were gay…_

Besides, it’s not like Ron or Hermione ever noticed when he wasn’t paying attention anyways. He didn’t even have to look at them to know that every time they were together, there were only soft smiles and gentle giggling directed at one another. He was happy for them, really. After all, they were his best mates and this had been a long time coming. He understood the excitement and underlying adventure of newfound love and all that, but what he couldn’t understand was how Ron and Hermione were finding the time to make puppy dog eyes at one another when a war was rapidly approaching. Then again, Voldemort was really only after Harry so he guessed they didn’t have much to worry about seeing as how they’ve now gone to ignoring him most of the time.

“Harry!” He was quickly startled out of his reverie by the sound of Hermione’s shrill voice and turned to see her gazing at him with concern. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past 5 minutes! Are you alright?” She dropped her voice to a whisper and added, “You’re not thinking about Sirius again, are you? Because it wasn’t your fault. Bellatrix is insane and there was nothing you could do. Remus doesn’t blame you at all — no one does.”

He gave her a tight smile and shook his head. “No I’m fine.” Honestly, he was still feeling upset and guilty about Sirius’ death, but recently he couldn’t help but push thoughts of his late godfather to the back of his mind. He had plenty of other sad and morbid things to think about. As if sensing the direction his thoughts were heading in, his stomach growled thunderously. He swallowed nervously and shifted around in his seat, loudly shuffling his papers around to try and attempt to hide the deafening noises coming from his stomach.

Hermione threw Harry a speculating look. “What is it then? I can tell something is bothering you.”

He let out a small, inward sigh. Sometimes, it was horrible having such a perceptive friend. “I’m fine Hermione. Honestly. I just have a bit of a headache. Nothing a good kip won’t fix.” Despite trying to gently ease Hermione’s concerns, she continued to nag him.

“Are you still feeling ill after your accident yesterday?” She quickly darted her eyes to Malfoy before shifting her gaze back to Harry.

“What happened anyway?” Ron added. “You never did tell us.” He leaned in and slung his arm around Hermione. Looking away, Harry couldn’t help but feel a little bitter. _Yeah, I didn’t tell you guys because you weren’t even there. Malfoy was. And you never even asked._ Before he could answer however, McGonagall briskly walked in and cleared her throat.

“I apologize for my tardiness. I had an unfortunate run in with Peeves.”

Harry was amused to see the usually prim and proper professor look wildly unbalanced and disheveled as she brushed off flakes of what appeared to be brightly colored confetti covering every inch of her dark green robes. She took her hat off, setting it down on the desk, and Harry, along with many others in the class, sniggered and chuckled in mirth as they watched even more confetti fall lightly to the floor from the top of her head. The professor’s lips tightened into a flat, nearly invisible line, and she frowned down at the colorful bits of paper now littering the ground in front of her. Withdrawing her wand, she vigorously vanished the offending scraps and turned to the blackboard.

“If you could all open to page 78 of your books, we can get started.”

The giggling immediately subsided as the class heard the underlying warning in her words and they all obediently reached for their textbooks. Ron and Hermione twisted back around in their seats to face the front — dropping the conversation — and Harry let out a small sigh as he too, reached for his own book. So much for being interested in his welfare.

Class went by extremely slowly and he couldn’t help but wish that he was still stuck in the infirmary. At least there he didn’t have to pretend to pay attention. And it would have been great to get away from the love sick glances his two friends were continuously sending each other. But then again, Madam Pomfrey would have probably forced Harry to eat more and anything was better than eating. Exhaling quietly, he tried to focus on the lesson, but his rumbling stomach was preventing him from concentrating. He couldn’t stop fidgeting in his seat and after 10 more minutes of noisily flipping papers, coughing, and unnecessarily clearing his throat, a small wad of paper thrown at the back of his head stopped his movements. Turning in the direction it came from, he was startled to meet Malfoy’s death glare. The blond leaned over his desk and hissed,

“Potter, I swear to Merlin if I hear one more fucking noise from you, I’m going to hex your balls off!”

Harry threw him a half-hearted glare and mumbled “sorry,” too tired to fight back. Malfoy’s eyes widened in surprise and he gaped at him. No doubt shocked that he had apologized to him. Harry turned his attention back to his book before the blond could say anything else.

The rest of the class went by just as slowly as the first half and when it was finally time for the next lesson, he sprung out of his seat, mumbled an excuse to Ron and Hermione about a forgotten assignment left in the dorm, and made his way as fast as he could to the kitchens. If they were surprised by his abrupt exit, they didn’t show it. He pushed past a group of 3rd years blocking the corridor and mentally calculated the foods he would allow himself to eat.

As he came across the entrance to the kitchens, he silently prayed to whoever was listening that the house elves would just do as he asked instead of trying to force feed him mountains of food like they always seemed to do when he visited. Couldn’t they see he was already fat enough? Sighing, he tickled the pear and made his way inside. Immediately a small house elf appeared before him.

“Mister Harry Potter!” The elf squeaked. “What would Mister Harry Potter be liking today? Tibby and friends will be giving you anything, sir!” The small elf bowed so low that her pointy nose almost touched the floor.

“Thank you, Tibby, but all I would really like is some celery. And maybe some water I can take with me to my lessons?”

Tibby abruptly stood upright and gawked at Harry. “But, Mister Harry Potter, sir! You is so tiny, if you don’t mind Tibby saying. Tibby and friends couldn’t help but notice how small Mister Harry Potter is now. You must eat more, sir!” Tibby suddenly took a small step back and seemed to shrink back into her already tiny frame. With rapidly watering eyes, Tibby looked up at Harry and frowned. “Is Tibby and friends not pleasing Mister Harry Potter with Tibby and friends’ food?” The small elf seemed just about ready to slam her ears in the oven doors and Harry rapidly took a step forward.

“No! Of course that’s not it, Tibby,” he glanced around at the rest of the elves who seemed to be inching closer to him, obviously having heard their conversation. “And friends.” He cleared his throat. “I already had a massive breakfast and it was er, very, very good. Especially the croissant sandwiches,” he added after a brief pause. “I just wanted something small to snack on before lunch.” He gave the elves crowding him a small smile which probably looked more like a grimace.

“Oh! Tibby is sorry for questioning Mister Harry Potter. Tibby will be fetching sir his celery and water now!” The small elf quickly bowed before scurrying away and returned less than a minute later clutching a small pouch of celery and a container with water. Harry graciously took the items out of the elf’s hand and gave her a a smile.

“Thanks for this, Tibby.” He awkwardly patted her on the head and made for the exit.

“You is welcome sir! Mister Harry Potter is welcome to the kitchens any time and Tibby and friends will give sir anything he asks for!” The small elf beamed up at Harry and he threw her one last smile over his shoulder before heading to his next class.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Draco Malfoy was in a foul mood. Absolutely nothing was going right and he was feeling anxious, nervous, frustrated, and helpless as the days slowly passed. He chucked his bag to the floor and sank down in the seat next to Blaise at the Slytherin table. Scowling at his horrible luck, he muttered under his breath about evil Dark Lords as he reached over and dumped a scoop of potatoes onto his plate.

Blaise glanced sideways at him as he took a big bite of his sandwich. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?”

Scowling even further at the appalling lack of Blaise’s table manners, he threw him a dirty look and set his spoon down. “I honestly wonder why you’ve no boyfriend, Zabini. With amazing table etiquette such as yours, the boys should be all over you,” he drawled. Draco then frowned for a moment, allowing his brain to sluggishly process the words Blaise had said to him before, and screwed his face up in confusion. “And what about my knickers?”

Before Blaise could answer, Pansy leaned over and smirked. “It’s a muggle saying, apparently. Blaise has been all about muggle things recently.” She glanced at him before leaning even further in and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Rumor has it our dear boy Blaise is trying to court Justin Flinch-Fletchley. You know, the Muggleborn?”

Draco raised both eyebrows in surprise before turning to his friend. “Flinch-Fletchley? He’s gay?” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Hang on. Isn’t he a _Hufflepuff?_ ”

Blaise sighed dramatically before slinging an arm around Draco and rested his head on the blond’s shoulders. “Ah, yes.” He peered up at Draco and smiled. “Hufflepuffs are so sweet are they not?”

Draco looked down at his friend incredulously. “Yes, they are,” he replied as he shook his head slowly and lifted an arm to gently push Blaise’s head away. “And that’s why we hate them. Remember?”

Blaise _tsk_ ed at him before turning back to his food. “No, Draco. That’s why _you_ hate them. I, for one, have nothing against Hufflepuffs. Or Muggleborns for that matter, since I know you’re going to ask.” He sniffed daintily before taking a sip of water and raised his eyebrows challengingly at his friend.

Draco’s jaws dropped. Surely he mustn’t have heard Blaise correctly. _What?_ Not hating Hufflepuffs was one thing — house rivalries were just a part of attending Hogwarts and wouldn’t matter once they graduated — but feeling anything less than hatred toward mudbloods? Draco’s mind was blown. He tried to form sentences, aware that he looked like a complete pillock with his mouth hanging open, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. He turned his head to look at Pansy helplessly. Maybe she would rant to Blaise on his behalf — she hated Muggles and Muggleborns almost as much as he did — but to his horror, she just gazed at Draco guiltily.

“Draco, darling, I know what you’re probably thinking…” She trailed off uncertainly as Draco’s eyes hardened. She cleared her throat before continuing in a small, timid voice. “I just don’t get why we must hate Muggles. They’re really quite similar to us.” He visibly reared back in shock. What in the bloody hell was going on here? Suddenly livid, he voiced his thoughts.

“Just what in the bloody hell is going on here?!” He sprung out of his seat and pointed a long, pale finger at Pansy. “ _I just don’t get why we must hate Muggles?!_ Are you _mad_? If the Dark Lord had heard you say that, you would’ve been dead in a heartbeat! Do you have a fucking death wish? What in the name of Salazar Slytherin is _wrong_ wi—” Draco yelped as a small hand suddenly clamped down on his mouth.

“Shut _up_!” Pansy hissed as she glanced around nervously at the Great Hall. A few heads at their own table were turned up in subdued interest, but the rest of the houses, with the exception of one lone person sitting at the Gryffindor table, were oblivious to the rising argument between the tall blond and the short raven haired girl. “And sit down before you cause an even bigger scene!” She removed her hand and tugged hard on Draco’s robe sleeve as she shakily sank back down on the bench. Still flabbergasted by Pansy’s lack of hatred toward Muggles, (and when in the bloody fuck had _that_ happened?) Draco silently complied.

“For fucks sake, Draco, you sure do know how to blow things out of proportion don’t you?” Blaise drawled. He arched an eyebrow and stared at Draco warily, as if _he_ were the one suddenly declaring his love towards Muggles. Draco let out a quiet snort.

Pansy fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat, and looked back and forth between them before she glanced around at the Slytherin table again. Satisfied to see no one paying them any mind, she shifted her attention back to Draco and opened her mouth to speak, but clamped it shut with an audible _clack!_ when he shot her a withering glare.

“Explain.”

She quickly darted her eyes toward Blaise, silently asking for help, but only received an one armed shrug in reply. He reached for his drink and took a small sip, gazing calmly at them. Draco turned his head toward Blaise and scowled. “You knew?” He scowled even further when he too only received a relaxed shrug and half a smile in response.

Nervously grabbing a lock of her short, black hair, Pansy twisted it harshly around her finger before sighing resignedly. “Father and mother…” She cut herself off, looking uncertain, before continuing. “Father and mother have decided to defect.” Her voice cracked on the last word, but she determinedly carried on. “They think the Dark Lord has gone mad. And honestly, Draco, I can see why.” She dropped the lock of hair she was playing with and set both elbows on the table, leaning in closer. “My parents — they aren’t killers. I’m not either. Father gets sick at the mere mention of blood. The things the Dark Lord’s been making them do…” She trailed off again and shuddered lightly. “We're not cut out for this. We joined him because we wanted blood purity. Not literal blood on our hands. He’s made them kill witches and wizards who were pure.” She paused again and Draco was alarmed to see unshed tears glistening in her dark brown eyes. “According to father, the Dark Lord’s been ranting like a lunatic about Potter. It’s all been ‘Potter this’ and ‘Potter that’ and father’s not sure if this bloody war is even about blood purity anymore.”

Draco flicked his eyes away from Pansy and drew his attention to Potter. He was resting his chin on one hand, eyes closed and seemingly trying to ignore the hushed voices of Weasley and Granger as they spoke quietly to one another with their heads bowed. What is it that Pansy had just said? ‘Potter this and Potter that?’

Draco had of course heard from his own father, the ravings about Potter from the Dark Lord, but he didn’t understand it. What was so special about Potter anyways? He was awfully skinny, had horrid hair, and had a ghastly taste in clothes. Sure, Draco may or may not have imagined running his hands through that wild, dark hair 2 or 3 times and he may or may not have wanted to gift the Gryffindor a new set of robes, but he still didn’t understand why anyone else would be remotely fascinated by him. He had asked his father about it last year, when Lucius too, had started to show an even bigger interest in the gawky, bespectacled boy, but every time Draco had asked, he was brushed aside.

“ _Patience, Draco_.” His father had said. “ _You are not needed in these plans. Wait obediently and the Dark Lord will reward you. Your time will come soon_.”And with that, his father had left the room after briefly laying a hand on his shoulder. That was the last time he’d seen Lucius before Potter had put him in Azkaban.

As if feeling Draco’s eyes on him, Potter slowly blinked open his eyes and met his gaze. Green met grey and Draco quickly looked away, embarrassed to have been caught gawking. He knew he should have hated Potter for putting his father in prison, but if he was being completely honest, he was relieved to no longer have Lucius carefully watching over him. He was, of course, furious when his father had first been carted off, but that anger had quickly melted into quiet relief. However, that relief had only been short lived when he realized that there was now a creepy, red eyed, snake faced evil lord examining his every move as he paraded around his childhood home, killing anything and everything that had gotten in his way.

Fully aware of the fact that Potter was still staring at him, he determinedly kept his eyes trained on Pansy who was now looking a lot more composed than she had looked before. And thank Merlin for that. Pansy may have been his best friend, (or was she still? Draco didn’t know. He was feeling pretty flustered by all this information Pansy was sharing with him.) but he was absolutely rubbish when it came to comforting her or anyone else for that matter.

“The point is,” Pansy continued. “My parents don’t want to do this anymore. We want out.” She cast her eyes down at her half eaten plate of food. “They’ve already gone to Dumbledore and asked him for protection.” She hesitated for a moment. “An- And I’ve gone to Potter.”

Too caught off guard to respond, Draco stared dumbly back at her. Suddenly, she lifted her head up and stared sharply at Draco with a strange, new ferocity in her dark eyes. Slightly unnerved, Draco gently leaned back. “He’ll protect you too you know. You _and_ your family. Potter and Dumbledore both.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned in closer. “And I know what the Dark Lord is making you do. I’m fairly certain Dumbledore knows as well.”

Draco’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head and Pansy, bless her heart, neatly ignored the opening and closing of his mouth before continuing.

“I’m telling you now Draco, you don’t have to do this. You may not believe it, but Potter’s strong. He’s shown me things, told me things. Things you wouldn’t believe.” She glanced at the dark haired boy over her shoulder, who was now looking quite sulky with his chin resting back on his hand while he used the other to aimlessly move his fork around on his full to the brim plate of food. “I really think he could defeat the Dark Lord.”

Blaise, who had been silent throughout the whole interaction, let out a big sigh and shifted closer to Draco. “I’ve always admired you for your smarts, you know. You’re cunning, mischievous, and brilliant when you want to be, but you would be a complete fool to not go to Dumbledore or even Potter with the task the Dark Lord’s given you. Pans is right. He’s gone insane. This isn’t about blood purity anymore. He’s got some sort of personal vendetta against Potter that’s driving him even madder than he already was. Get out while you can. Go to Dumbledore. Go to Potter.” He slid back and gazed at Draco, awaiting his response.

What? The Zabini’s had defected too? True, they had never openly declared themselves to the Dark Lord, but Draco had assumed they were on his side. The world as he knew it seemed to be changing right before his eyes. Draco, who was now feeling very, very ill, could only whisper his reply. “But, my mother and father…”

“You and I both know your mother loves the Dark Lord just as much as you do. And your father is in Azkaban.” Blaise said determinedly. “I’ve kept silent, because I didn’t want to cause problems, but seeing as how we’re now having an open discussion on this, I’m going to say this: You are not Lucius Malfoy, Draco. All your life you’ve been controlled by your father. He’s fed you all the things _he_ believed in, but what about you? Do you truly, deep down in your heart, believe in the same things as Lucius Malfoy? Do you truly think Muggles, Muggleborns, and hell, even Potter deserve to die?”

Draco was speechless. What _did_ he think? _Did_ Potter deserve to die? He glanced over at the Gryffindor again to see him smiling sheepishly at Granger.

No.

He may have been an annoying thorn in Draco’s side, but imagining a world without the raven haired boy made him feel physically sick. He shifted his attention to the bushy haired girl sitting across from Potter. How did she make him feel? She was a Muggleborn, yes. An extremely irritating, insufferable, know-it-all Muggleborn, but did she too deserve to die? He observed her curiously. Though she was sitting with her back towards him, Draco didn’t miss the way a small, reluctant smile lit up her face as she turned her head to roll her eyes at whatever brilliant thing Weasley had just said. He tore his gaze away and sighed. As annoying as Granger was, she also did not deserve to die. He turned his attention back to Pansy and Blaise who were now regarding Draco with identical looks of understanding.

“I was right, Draco, wasn’t I?” Pansy asked gently. She hesitated a moment before reaching over the table and lightly placing a well manicured hand on top of Draco’s.

He drew his gaze to their intertwined hands and closed his eyes.What the hell had just happened? All he had wanted to do was come to lunch, joke around with his friends, and ignore the Dark Lord’s horrible task for just a few moments. Instead, he had come to lunch to receive shocking news from not just one, but _both_ of his closest friends, and was now rethinking his entire way of life. Sure, he too had been having doubts about the Dark Lord, but he was too much of a coward to actually do anything about it. It seems though, that both the Parkinson’s and the Zabini’s had left the Dark Lord’s ranks. Could the Malfoy’s leave too? Surely the Dark Lord would kill them all? And if not him, then Potter or any of the other gits on his side certainly would. Even if he were to leave the Dark Lord, Potter wouldn’t be likely to trust him and would only end up hexing Draco before he could even get a chance to speak to him.

Suddenly remembering a question he had wanted to ask before, he opened his eyes and faced Blaise. “When the hell did you decide to side with Potter?” There was no hostility in his voice, only curiosity, and he waited patiently as Blaise finished chewing his food.

“I was never really on You-Know-Who’s side, Draco,” he sighed. “You just assumed I was and I never corrected you. I knew if I so much as mentioned my families loyalties, you would react the way you did earlier.”

Draco turned to Pansy. “And you?”

She bit her lip, seemingly struggling with what to say, and finally met Draco’s gaze. “Since the first day of term.” She paused for a moment as she absently reached for a lock of her hair to play with. “That was when I first went to Potter. Father and mother went to Dumbledore in July and—” She cut herself off as she caught sight of Draco’s bewildered expression.

_Since July?_

Draco thought back to the previous months and inwardly scowled. So, while he had been making death threats towards Potter for sending his father off to Azkaban, she had been on the scarhead’s side.

He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. His head was starting to hurt and all he wanted to do was head down to the dungeons and sleep for the rest of the day. Who needed schooling anyways?

He opened his eyes when he felt someone grasp his other hand. “We just wanted blood purity, Draco. Not murder,” his dark skinned friend murmured. With that, he stood up, gave Draco a tight smile, and headed towards the Great Hall doors. Draco stared at his retreating back for a moment before facing Pansy. Beautiful Pansy. His dearest, closest, best, and longest friend. Draco honestly couldn’t believe it. He thought he knew all there was to know about her. She secretly loved Veela romance novels, but denied it vehemently when questioned, she was actually quite smart despite what others thought, and she hated all things Muggle. Or at least he thought she did. He sighed and shook his head. He didn’t think he could take any more surprises today.

“Draco?” Pansy’s soft, but firm voice shook him out of his thoughts and he came to realize he had been staring idly at her for the past few minutes. He lifted an eyebrow in question.

She gazed at their still intertwined hands and spoke even softer than she had before. “I understand if you don’t want to go to Dumbledore.” She halted for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts, as her dark eyes suddenly began to glisten. She cleared her throat and when she spoke again, her voice was noticeably wobbly. “I understand if you must continue with the task the Dark Lord has given you. And I understand if you must break up our friendship. But just know, that when it comes to a full blown war, your side against mine, I won’t hurt you. I can’t. Even if it means dying by your hands.” A single tear slid down her cheek and she quickly wrenched her hand away from Draco’s to wipe it away. She gave him a watery smile and Draco couldn’t help but shoot forward to give her an awkward hug over the table.

“Pans…” Draco trailed off, voice tight, and was horrified to feel tears forming. She moved slightly, gently trying to push him back, knowing how horrible Draco was dealing with emotions, but he gripped her harder and squeezed his best friend as tightly as he could.

“Pans,” he cleared his throat and continued. “I’ll think about it. I’ll—” He took a shuddering breath and spoke again. “I’ll think about going to Dumbledore.” His voice was nearly inaudible on the last word and he finally let go of her and leaned backwards. He slowly raised his head and was alarmed to see tears falling freely down her face. Draco, unsure of what to do or how to react, reached over to awkwardly wipe her tears away, but recoiled when her face suddenly split into a very wide, very wet grin.

“Oh, Draco!” Her eyes shone with newfound happiness as she continued to smile. “I am so happy! Blaise will be ecstatic! He was dreadfully worried about losing your friendship, you know. Of course I was too, but oh darling, will you really? You’ll really go to Dumbledore? I promise, you won’t regret it. Your mother will be thrilled, I just know she will be! And don’t worry about Lucius or the Dark Lord or any of the other death eaters. With Dumbledore by your side, you and your family will be safe. Oh, Draco I can’t believe this! I was so anxious and so terribly nervous about telling you because I know how awful you are at handling surprises, but now I’m so happy and oh! I must go and tell Blaise!”

Draco gaped at Pansy, exasperation clear on his face, as she practically jumped up and down in her seat, hands clasped together in glee. Despite the circumstances, he couldn’t help but feel his lips twitch in amusement at Pansy’s outburst. Her filter seemed to disappear any time she was feeling excited about something. However, thinking of the fact that he was now just like Weasley, _a blood traitor_ , his amusement disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

Pansy, seeming to sense his panic, suddenly bolted forward and wrapped Draco in another tight hug. “It’ll be okay, darling. I promise. Blaise and I are here for you.” She gave him a brief squeeze before letting go. “Talk to Potter if you must.”

“How the hell am I supposed to go to Potter?! We hate each other!” Draco burst out. “Or have you forgotten that little fact? He’ll be suspicious of me the moment I go to him!” Draco sighed and smoothed his hair back. Of course he couldn’t go to Potter. Who was Pansy kidding? Him and the Golden Boy on the same side? He let out a quiet snort.

Pansy shook her head and fixed Draco with a knowing look. “Potter doesn’t hate you. And I know for a fact that you don’t hate him either. I’m not blind Draco. I see the way you look at him. He’ll be more than willing to help you.” And with that, she winked as she hopped up out of her seat, obviously still in a very good mood, and leaned over to give Draco a quick peck on the cheek before skipping towards the Great Hall doors. Draco could only sit there, frozen like a statue, as he stared at Pansy’s receding form.

What in the bloody fuck just happened? And what in Merlin’s name did he just agree to do?

Shaking himself out of his musing, he noticed for the first time the nearly empty hall. He frowned down at his still full plate of food. _Shit. Lunch is over already and I barely ate anything_. He let out a sigh. _Well, how the fuck was I supposed to concentrate on food anyways?_ He reached over and plucked an apple out of the fruit before collecting his things and heading towards the exit. Was it really just an hour ago he had come in here, cursing his lack of good luck? Oh how fast things could change! Lost in thought, he took a bite out of his apple and wandered out the doors, completely oblivious to the dark haired boy still sitting in the Great Hall, contemplating him curiously.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is terrified of food. Draco Malfoy is terrified for his life. An unlikely friendship forms when the 2 come together to save each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of chapter 2 from Harry's POV! This one is a lot shorter than the previous one. Enjoy :)

Harry Potter was in a foul mood. He was cold, tired and nauseous and all he wanted to do was curl up in his bed with a thick blanket. Shivering slightly, he discretely cast a warming charm over himself before tucking his wand away. Why was he so bloody cold all the time? No one else seemed to be having problems and in fact, he only received weird looks in response when he bitterly complained about the chilly castle.

Sighing, he reached over and scooped a massive amount of food from the plates and bowls littering the Gryffindor table on to his own. Of course he wasn’t going to eat any of it, but he had to keep up appearances. He was midway through pouring himself a goblet of water when a very un-manly shriek broke his concentration and the flow of the clear liquid making its way into his cup sloshed over the rim and onto the table.

“Just what in the bloody hell is going on here?!”

Hastily reaching for a napkin, he wiped up the water and turned in the direction of the noise to see Malfoy jabbing a finger in Pansy Parkinson’s face.

“Shut _up_!” He heard the frantic cry of Parkinson’s voice and watched in interest as she tugged hard on Malfoy’s sleeve. Glancing around, Harry was surprised to see that no one else seemed to have heard Malfoy’s outburst. More intrigued than he should have been, Harry nonchalantly tried to lean in closer.

It had been, without a doubt, a bit surprising when pure blooded, Slytherin princess, Pansy Parkinson had cautiously approached Harry on the first day of term wearing a look of wary mistrust, but also fierce determination on her face.

_“Potter.”_

_Harry, who had been carefully watching his footing as he exited the Hogwarts Express, looked up in confusion as he heard a vaguely familiar voice call his name. Swiveling his head around, he surveyed the gaggle of students excitedly chattering about the new school year as they waited for the carriages, and was puzzled to see no one paying him any mind. Convinced that his sleep deprived brain was playing tricks on him — he was most definitely NOT hearing Voldywart again, been there, done that, thank you very much — he shook his head and hopped onto the platform. Going up on his tiptoes, he craned his neck over the crowd as he tried to search for his two friends._

_“Potter! Merlin, are you deaf as well as blind?”_

_Harry abruptly sank back down onto his heels and whipped his head around. Okay, that definitely was not a trick of his mind. Someone was calling to him — but from where?_

_“For fucks sake, Potter, to your left!”_

_At that, he whirled around and peered into the dark forest of trees where sure enough, a small, raven haired girl was warily watching him from behind a large, overhanging branch._

_“Parkinson?” Harry spluttered out in surprise. What on earth did Malfoy’s girlfriend want with him? Suspicious of her motives, he reached for his wand as he cautiously approached the Slytherin._

_The short girl let out a huff of annoyance and rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk.” She held up one hand as she slipped the other into her robe pocket and carefully withdrew her wand. “Here.” She tossed the piece of wood to Harry. “Now you’re armed and I’m not.” He stared back at her dumbly. Letting out another sigh, she put her hands on her hips and snapped, “Shut your mouth, Potter. You’ll catch flies. Honestly, you’re worse than Draco when-” Suddenly, she looked down at the floor and bit her bottom lip, looking unsure._

_Harry, hearing the snarky blond’s name, reared back as if he’d been shocked and pointed an accusatory finger at the small girl. “I swear to Merlin, Parkinson, if this is some silly prank you and your boyfriend are pulling, I’ll gladly hex you both faster than you can say ‘Potter.’” He winced slightly as he said the word ‘boyfriend,’ but none the less kept his eyes trained on the Slytherin._

_Pansy let out her 3rd sigh of the night and glared at Harry. “First of all, **Potter** ,” she mocked, “Draco is not my boyfriend.”_

_Harry’s heart lurched at the words. Not her boyfriend? He shouldn’t have been so excited to hear those 4 simple words, but Harry couldn’t help it. When he had caught a glimpse of the now taller, less-pointy, blonde boy laughing with Parkinson on the train, jealousy that he hadn’t even known he’d possessed had flared up in his chest and he had instantly gone dry mouthed as he scrambled back to his own compartment._

_Pansy coughed loudly in Harry’s face, effectively grabbing his attention again. “Second,” she continued, “it’s impolite for a gentleman to hex a lady,” she smirked at him. “And third, I meant what I said before. I just want to talk.” She crossed her arms and gazed cooly at Harry from underneath her fringe before carrying on. “And besides, you’ve got my wand. I can’t hurt you even if I wanted to.”_

_In weary acceptance, Harry gave her a curt nod.“Well then, was is it that you so badly needed to talk to me about? Something important, I’m guessing? Since we’re currently having this conversation away from witnesses?”_

_The dark haired girl sniffed, ignoring his last jibe and cast her eyes back down to the ground before speaking. “I need your help,” she hesitated. The Dark Lord is coming after my family.”_

_Harry stared at her in disbelief. “Is this some kind of joke? Why would Voldemort go after your family? You’re Purebloods.” He spat the last word out and started to reach for his wand again, but was interrupted when Parkinson let out a loud screech._

_“For the love of Merlin, this isn’t a joke! Talk to Dumbledore — he’ll tell you everything!” She sent Harry the filthiest glare she could conjure and thrust a finger into his chest. “We’ve defected! The Zabini’s too! Understand me? We’re on your side now! That makes us the Dark Lord’s next targets!” Her entire body seemed to tremble with anger as she stood there, one finger still jabbed into Harry’s chest, the other furiously wiping at traitorously falling tears._  
_Harry was at a loss for words. The Parkinson’s left Voldemort? And the Zabini’s too? Harry ran a hand through his hair. What the hell? He continued to warily stare at the small, teary eyed girl._

_“Er.”_

_Pansy let out a harsh laugh. “Eloquent as ever I see.” She abruptly pulled her hand away, embarrassed to have lost control of her emotions in front of the Gryffindor, and stood upright. “You need to promise me that you’ll do everything you can to protect my family. You **must**.”_

_Harry, still jarred by this new information, could do nothing but nod silently. Pansy glowered at him for a moment longer before breathing a sigh of relief._

_“Right then. Fantastic.” She nodded once at him before stretching forward and grabbing her wand from his slack hand. She straightened her robes, flattened her hair, and abruptly strode past Harry and out of the forest._

_He stood there for several more moments, still frozen in disbelief, before he hurriedly came to. Realizing that the carriages taking students to the school were no longer there, he walked the rest of the way to the castle, lost in thought. Needless to say, he missed the Welcome Feast._  


Harry was startled out of his reverie when a pale, freckly face appeared before him.

“Not watching Malfoy again, are you mate?” Ron grabbed a bread roll and grinned wickedly at Harry before taking a big bite. “If you want him so much, just go up to him and ask the tosser out.” Harry felt his face heat up when he realized he had indeed been staring at Malfoy as he had let his mind wander.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He spluttered out. It wasn’t his fault that the blonde was in his line of sight! And what did Ron mean by that last sentence? Could he have figured out Harry’s sexual preferences? There was no way! He had tried so hard to keep his feelings to himself. It was _unnatural_ according to his aunt and uncle. The one, very rare time they had taken Harry out in public, he had seen two young men locked in what seemed to be a very loving and tender snog. They had quickly broken apart when his uncle had spit at their feet.

_HOW DARE THEY LET YOUR KIND IN! IT’S UNNATURAL!_

Harry hadn’t thought there was anything wrong with the two men and had been gazing at them curiously before his aunt had ushered both him and Dudley out the doors, mumbling the whole while about ‘never spending another pound in there again!’ He didn’t know if the Wizarding world felt the same way about same-sex love as Muggles, but Harry couldn’t risk it. He was already on shaky ground with his two closest friends and he refused to tell them — or anyone else for that matter — in case they thought he was freakier than he already was. After all, what normal 16 year old wizard could hear voices inside their head? Or speak to snakes? He didn’t need to give people another excuse to point and stare. He focused his attention back on Ron and saw him shrug in response to his question.

“Nothing. It was just a joke.” He took another bite out of his roll and peered at Harry strangely. “Why? Is it supposed to mean something?”

Harry shook his head and forced himself to laugh. “No, of course not. Just a bit slow today. Good one!” He nervously took a big gulp of his water as Ron continued to stare at him like he’d grown 2 heads.

“Hello boys!” Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he watched Hermione drop her book bag and sit down in the seat next to Ron. He shifted his attention away from Harry and smiled at Hermione who was contemplating Harry curiously. “Are you alright, Harry? You're looking quite flushed.”

Ron snorted. “I think he’s still feeling a bit off after his Potions accident. He’s acting wonky.” He lifted a hand to his temple and swirled it around.

Hermione sighed. “Oh, Harry! If you’re still feeling ill, you really should go and see Madam Pomfrey again!” She peered at him with concern and Harry gave her a smile that he hoped was reassuring.

“I’m fine. I’m just tired.” He faked a yawn for good measure.

Hermione threw him one more concern filled look, but let the subject drop and turned toward Ron, who thankfully, didn’t look as though he would carry on with the conversation either. “Ron, have you started your Transfiguration essay yet? You know Professor McGonagall will have a fit if you don’t turn this one in. You really should be keeping up with your homework seeing as how NEWTS are so soon.” She carefully poured herself a goblet of pumpkin juice as Ron threw her an incredulous look.

“But ‘Mione!” He protested around a mouth full of food. “McGonagall gave us that essay today! How could I have finished it already?! And NEWTS are so far, I don’t…”

Harry shifted his attention away from his two friends as they quarreled over school work. Exhaling, he closed his eyes and rested his chin on his hand. His head hurt and his bones were achy and he really, really didn’t want to hear another one of Hermione’s lectures about how ‘important homework was to students.’ He let out another sigh and wondered if he would be able to head up to Gryffindor tower for a quick kip before the lunch hour ended.

Feeling as if someone was watching him, he slowly blinked open his eyes, ready to tell another starstruck first year to go mind their own business, when instead, he met Malfoy’s cloudy, grey gaze. Bracing himself for a sneer or a glare, he got ready to raise his hand up in a one fingered salute. Surprisingly, the pale haired blond didn’t address Harry and instead quickly darted his eyes back to Parkinson. Inexplicably, Harry felt his cheeks heat. Was Malfoy talking about him? He couldn’t help but feel that the blond was up to no good. Remembering the earlier outburst from the Slytherin, he continued to openly stare at Malfoy. What was it that he had said? ‘Just what in the bloody hell was going on here?’ Yes, what _was_ going on with Malfoy?

He absently thought back to his first conversation with Parkinson and wondered if she had mentioned it to the blond yet. Honestly, he wouldn’t blame her if she hadn’t. If he had a prejudiced, evil Lord worshiping friend, he wouldn’t want to tell them the news either. Lost in thought, Harry nearly yelped in surprise when a small hand appeared in front of his face.

“Well? What do you think?” Hermione stared at him expectantly and Harry sent her a sheepish grin.

“Sorry, what?”

Hermione sighed. “I said, what do you think about professors handing out homework over breaks? I think it’s wonderful! Ronald however, thinks that it’s ‘totally barbaric.’” She shot the red haired boy a glare, obviously recognizing the words she had spoken to him many times before.

Thankfully, Harry was saved from answering by Ron’s indignant squawking. “It _is_ totally barbaric! Why send us off on a holiday if they’re just going to give us more course work? Might as well just be in lessons then!”

Hermione just rolled her eyes and didn’t bother answering, though Harry could see a small, unwanted smile spreading across her features. She turned around to rummage through her things before gathering them up and placing them on the seat next to her. Now facing Ron again, who was currently shoving the remaining bits of a sandwich into his mouth, she grimaced as a small chewed up piece of ham fell out from his mouth and onto the table.

“Oh, honestly! You’re the messiest eater I know! Why can’t you be more like Harry?” She directed her gaze to the impeccably clean spot in front of Harry before pointedly looking at the cookie crumbs, chunks of ham, and spilled juice littering the space in front of Ron.

Ron snorted, mouth still filled with food. “That’s because Harry doesn’t eat! How’s he supposed to make a mess if the bloke doesn’t even put food in his mouth?” He swallowed a big gulp of his pumpkin juice before swiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Anyways, I’m heading up to the common room now. I’ve got a spare next hour and I promised Dean I would help him come up with new strategies to beat Seamus at Wizard’s chess.” He grinned widely.

Harry, who had been ogling Malfoy, turned to Ron, paralyzed in his seat. “What did you just say?” The words were nearly inaudible and it was clear that neither Gryffindor heard.

“Oh, hang on a minute! I’ve got a spare as well. I’ll go with you.” Hermione collected the books she had placed in the seat next to her and sat up from the table, patiently waiting for Ron to do the same. “Harry, are you going to come with us?”

Still paralyzed with sudden paranoia, he said nothing. Thankfully, Ron answered for him. “He hasn’t got a spare next, remember ‘Mione?” He shifted his attention back to Harry and clasped a hand down on his shoulder. “Tough luck, that, “ he shook his head. “Anyways, I’ll see you later mate.” They both threw him a smile and waved before heading out towards the Great Hall doors, hand in hand.

Harry was too astonished to do anything but stare speechlessly at their retreating backs. Ron had noticed? He raised his unsteady hands up to loosen his seemingly sudden restricting tie. No way Ron had realized Harry hardly ever ate. He loved his best mate, but Ron was absolutely clueless when it came to noticing things around him. Surely, he had said it as a joke? Harry quietly exhaled. Yes, that had to be it. If he had genuinely thought Harry wasn’t eating properly, he would have voiced his concerns to Hermione. Then they would have eventually confronted him about it alone. It wasn’t like them to casually mention it in front of many prying ears and then leave afterwards.

Convinced that Ron truly hadn’t meant anything by it, he let out another small breath and directed his attention back to Malfoy, who he was surprised to see locked in what seemed to be a very emotional embrace. It was strange to see the unusual open display of friendship and Harry’s heart beat a little faster as he wondered if maybe Parkinson had lied to him and they really were together. As he carried on watching the two Slytherins through narrowed eyes, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of jealousy shoot through him. When was the last time Hermione or even Ron had hugged him like that?

Shaking his head, he took a sip of his water and continued to watch the two over the rim of his cup. They were now sitting properly again, facing each other and Harry could see Malfoy’s lips twitch in obvious amusement. He couldn’t see Parkinson’s face, but she seemed to be excited about something if her body language was anything to go by. She was visibly bouncing around in her seat. He watched as she leaned forward to wrap Malfoy in another hug before she drew back and stood up from the table. They exchanged a few more words before the small girl, once again, leaned forward and gave Malfoy a peck on the cheek. Apparently quite pleased with whatever they had been talking about, Harry watched incredulously as Parkinson skipped towards the Great Hall doors.

Now even more curious than ever, he shifted his attention back to the pale boy and watched as the Slytherin plucked an apple from a fruit basket before he too heaved himself up from the table and made his way towards the exit. Eyes filled with longing, he openly proceeded to gaze at the blond until he stepped into the corridor — no longer in Harry’s line of sight. Sighing wistfully, he gathered his own books and stood from the Gryffindor table.

What had made Parkinson so happy? Could she have told him about her conversation with Harry? But surely if that was the case she wouldn’t have looked so delighted? Maybe he had told her that he wanted to get back together. Feeling another wave of hot jealousy rush through him, he glowered at his feet as he made his way out of the Great Hall. _Maybe if I were to lose more weight and stop looking like a troll Malfoy would actually pay attention to me in a good way._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is terrified of food. Draco Malfoy is terrified for his life. An unlikely friendship forms when the 2 come together to save each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter is the longest I've written so far! Thank you all so very much for the kudos and comments. You guys keep me going!
> 
> I apologize if there are any mistakes! Enjoy :)
> 
>  
> 
> *Quote or part of quote taken directly from book

Draco Malfoy was a coward. He was absolutely, irrevocably, 100% a coward. He said as much to Pansy.

“Oh hello Pansy dear, I didn’t realize you and Blaise were following me.” He cleared his throat nervously. “Remember years ago when Potter called me a coward and you defended my honor? Yes, well I’ve come to realize that there was really no need for that because Potter was absolutely right. I am a huge, fat coward — the biggest in fact. And I’ve changed my mind. The Dark Lord isn’t that bad after all. In fact, we’ve been getting pretty chummy recently and I really don’t mind him all that much anymore so if you and Zabini could just step aside pl — no, that’s not, uh, step the other way please, okay, well fine then — yes, I’ll just be going back to my dorm now.”

He tried to weasel his way past his two friends, but they remained unmoved, standing shoulder to shoulder (well, not really _shoulder to shoulder_ per say because Blaise was well over 6 ft tall and Pansy was just barely 5 ft 2) as they blocked Draco’s path. Blaise rolled his eyes at the same time Pansy snorted and Draco, momentarily stunned by the very un-lady like sound she had just emitted, froze with his hands still pushed against Blaise’s chest and let out a slightly hysterical laugh.

“What in the sweet name of Salazar Slytherin was _that_?” He threw his head back as laughter raked through his whole body. “Oh Merlin that has to be the ugliest noise I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth, and trust me, I’ve heard plenty of foul things from you over the years.” He continued to guffaw and rested his head on Blaise’s shoulder to stop himself from falling over.

“For fucks sake Draco I know you’re only acting this way because you’re trying to stall! Blaise! Stop laughing!” Pansy hissed as Draco wiped tears from his eyes.

“Gold, Pansy. That was brilliant stuff right there. Have you ever thought about volunteering at talent night at the Hog’s Head? You’ll truly be doing everyone a disservice if you don’t sha—” Draco yelped as a stinging hex hit him in the shoulder. He glared at her.

“Fuck! Alright, fine, I’m going now.” He rubbed his shoulder and scowled as Pansy smiled sweetly at him, twisting her wand in between her fingers.

“The password is Tootsie Rolls.”

Draco stared at her. “What?”

She shrugged. “Blaise says it’s some sort of Muggle sweet.” She looked over at him for confirmation and he nodded.

“I asked Justin about it and his parents owled some over. They’re quite good,” he remarked. “I can ask him to give us some if you’d like.”

Draco shook his head in a negative. “Are you insane? Why would I ever eat anything made by Muggles _voluntarily_? So I can be poisoned? And die? Despite the suicide mission I am currently about to embark on, I don’t _actually_ have a death wish,” he sniffed.

“Merlin, Malfoy you’re so dramatic.”

Draco, who had been frowning at Blaise, dropped his arms as he stiffened. Turning around slowly, he acknowledged the intruder. “Potter.”

“Malfoy,” Potter nodded his head in greeting.

Draco gave a slight nod in return and abruptly pivoted on his heels to glare at his friends. “What the fuck is Potter doing here?!” He barked.

“We asked him to come.”

Draco blanched. “What? Why?! I said I would talk to Dumbledore — not that scrawny git!” He vaguely heard Potter splutter indignantly behind him but paid the boy no mind as he furiously watched Blaise raise one elegant eyebrow. _Damn him for stealing my signature move._

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you would have actually gone to Potter for help.”

Draco shifted his weight from one foot to the next.

Blaise smiled smugly.

“Exactly.”

Pansy strode up to Draco after sending the dark skinned boy a scathing look and wrapped the blond in a quick hug. “Ignore Blaise. I am so proud of you Draco.” She beamed at him for a few moments before shifting her gaze on to something just over Draco’s shoulder. Her small smile gradually turned into a mischievous smirk as her eyes lit up in barely concealed amusement. Spinning around suddenly, she reached for Blaise’s hand. “Come along Blaise. Let’s leave the boys to it!” She glanced back over her shoulder and blew a kiss to Draco just before smirking again and rounding the corner, leaving the two rivals alone.

“Er…”

Draco didn’t bother turning around to address the boy and just held up a hand and sighed. “As inspiring as I find your words Potter, let’s just get this over with.” He spun around and ignoring Potter’s flushed face, — why was his face so red anyway? — marched straight up to the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore’s office. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. What had Pansy said the password was again? Oh, right. He cleared his throat before speaking loudly. “Toodie Rolls.”

The gargoyle didn’t budge.

He spoke a little louder.

“Toodie Rolls!”

A quiet snigger sounded behind him and he whirled around at the noise. Narrowing his eyes, he glared at Potter. “What’s so funny?”

Potter looked up at him through wide, green eyes and let out another small chuckle. Draco narrowed his eyes even further.

“You’re, uh, saying it wrong.” Potter cleared his throat and glanced at him nervously, a small smile still lingering on his lips as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “It’s _Tootsie_ Rolls. Not _Toodie_ Rolls.”

At that, the Gargoyle moved aside, revealing a spiraling staircase. Draco watched it curiously and sniffed. “Right then. Let’s go, Potter.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Harry was nervous. He was due to meet Malfoy soon and he hadn’t the slightest idea why. The only thing Parkinson and Zabini had said to him was “you won’t want to miss this. Trust us.” He had snorted at the time because trusting any Slytherin, even ones that were on his side, was something that every fiber in his being protested against. He made no such plans to actually visit Malfoy — it was the weekend after all and all he wanted to do was lay in his warm bed — when he realized that whatever the two Slytherins had planned was actually a pretty good way to get closer to the blond. He hadn’t spoken to him since their brief conversation in the hospital wing and he was curious to know what Parkinson and Zabini could have possibly wanted from him.

Harry stood in front of the mirror and fussed over his appearance. He wanted to look his best for Malfoy, but was aggravated to see that he looked horribly ill and much too pale. Not to mention the fact that his hair was the messiest its ever been, he had dark circles under his eyes, and his sweatshirt made him look lumpy. He fought the urge to drag himself to the nearest toilet — there was nothing to expel seeing as how he hadn’t eaten anything all day — and instead tried in vain to fix his unruly hair. After a few more feeble attempts that did more damage than good, he scowled at his reflection, turned away from the mirror and trudged over to the trunk at the foot of his bed. Rummaging through it’s contents, he let out a quiet cry of triumph after a few seconds and brought out the Marauder’s Map.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

The map slowly came to life and Harry perched on the edge of his bed, squinting behind his glasses as he tried to find the dots labeled ‘Draco Malfoy,’ ‘Pansy Parkinson,’ and ‘Blaise Zabini.’ Spotting the 3 Slytherins already setting off towards the headmaster’s office — _they’re early!_ — he quickly deactivated the map and hurriedly made his way out of his own common room. Harry couldn’t help but feel grateful for once that his two friends were not with him and were instead doing their own couple-y things because that meant he didn’t need to come up with any half-arsed excuses as to where he was heading off to so close to dinner time.

As he jogged down the steps of Gryffindor Tower, his thoughts drew back to Malfoy. Harry knew that his strange fascination with the blond wasn’t normal and he loathed the fact that he was feeling this way. He had hoped that the fleeting attraction he felt when he had seen the blond for the first time after the summer hols was just that — fleeting. He didn’t want to be a queer! He wanted to joke about breasts and talk about fit birds and do other _normal_ things along with the rest of the boys in his year.

Cursing the fact that he would be showing up late — he really didn’t need Malfoy to bitch at him — he rid his head of all thoughts of the blond and quickened his pace. As he turned into the corridor housing Dumbledore’s office, he saw said blond facing Parkinson and Zabini with his hands resting on his hips. Harry swallowed nervously. Even with his back towards him he looked good.

“—would I ever eat anything made by Muggles _voluntarily_? So I can be poisoned? And die? Despite the suicide mission I am currently about to embark on, I don’t _actually_ have a death wish.”

Amused, he snorted. “Merlin, Malfoy you’re so dramatic.”

Suddenly rigid, Malfoy turned around. “Potter.”

Harry tilted his head in greeting. “Malfoy.”

He was surprised to see the blond nod back and Harry smiled to himself. Maybe they could be civil towards one another after all. Those thoughts vanished as quickly as they had come, however, when he saw the Slytherin whip back around to face his friends and hiss, “What the fuck is Potter doing here?!” Harry tensed as his stomach sank. What? He thought Malfoy knew that they were meeting here! He frowned.

“We asked him to come.”

“What? Why?! I said I would talk to Dumbledore — not that scrawny git!”

Harry glared at his feet and kicked at the floor. Scrawny? Was the git mocking him? Couldn’t the stupid tosser see how fat and lumpy he was? He ran a hand through his hair and muttered under his breath about daft, blind blonds as Malfoy continued to argue.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you would have actually gone to Potter for help.”

There was a pause.

“Exactly.”

Harry looked back up just in time to see Parkinson lock Malfoy in a tender embrace. He felt his eyes narrow as she whispered something in his ear before leaning back. As he saw her smile gently up at him, he clenched his fists as he felt the all too familiar rush of jealousy course through his body. _Take your hands off him, Parkinson!_ He was startled to suddenly make eye contact with the dark haired girl and he blushed as her small smile turned into a knowing smirk. “Come along Blaise. Let’s leave the boys to it!” She pivoted and tugged Zabini towards the opposite end of the corridor and Harry watched as she blew Malfoy a kiss. He knew now that she was only doing it to rile him up, but he couldn’t help the surge of jealously rush through him again.

Realizing that he was now alone with Malfoy, he anxiously ran a hand through his hair. What now? “Er…”

He cringed. Fantastic, Harry

Malfoy audibly sighed and held up a hand before Harry could speak again. Thank Merlin for that — he hadn’t the slightest clue on what to say next.

“As inspiring as I find your words Potter, let’s just get this over with.”

Harry bristled. It wasn’t his fault that the stupid prat didn’t know he was going to be there! Letting out a quiet huff, he watched in annoyance as Malfoy strode confidently up to the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore’s office.

“Toodie Rolls.”

Harry blinked in surprise. What did he just say?

As if reading Harry’s thoughts, Malfoy repeated the words louder. “Toodie Rolls!

Harry couldn’t help but let out a small, startled laugh. Malfoy snapped his head around and glared at Harry. “What’s so funny?”

Harry’s eyes widened and he peered at the blonde in amusement. Another small chuckle escaped him and he quickly looked away, clearing his throat, as he sensed the Slytherin’s growing annoyance. “You’re, uh, saying it wrong.” He glanced at Malfoy, a small smile still dancing on his lips, and nervously ran a hand through his messy hair. “It’s _Tootsie_ Rolls. Not _Toodie_ Rolls,” he continued.

The gargoyle suddenly moved, unveiling the spiraling staircase leading up to the headmaster’s office, and Harry watched Malfoy regarding it silently.

“Right then. Let’s go Potter.” He briskly strode to the steps and Harry nearly tripped over his own feet as he hastily made his way to him.

Standing together on the steps, Harry couldn’t help but feel strangely awkward. He cleared his throat and turned his head towards Malfoy who was staring straight ahead, stony faced. “Um,” Harry wracked his brain as he tried to think of something to say. “Have you ever,” he cleared his throat again. “Have you ever been to Dumbledore’s office?”

Malfoy remained unmoved.

Harry foolishly continued to ramble.

“He’s got loads of thing in there… And he has a phoenix! It went up in flames right in front of me and I thought I’d killed it! I, uh, saw it in our 2nd year. Filch caught me in the corridor with Justin Flinch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick. He thought I was the one who had petrified them — well everyone thought I had petrified them — so he took me to see Dumbledore. He believed me, by the way. About me not being the Heir of Slytherin. Oh, uh, Dumbledore, I mean. Not Filch.” Harry let out a nervous titter and peeked sideways at Malfoy who was still staring straight ahead. “Anyways, I’m pretty sure Filch still hates me. Well, he hates all students I suppose, but I think he hates me most of all for ‘petrifying’ his cat.” He held his hands up to put up air quotes and quickly dropped them back to his sides when he saw Malfoy’s jaw tense. “Um, right then. I think we’re nearly there.”

True to his word, the staircase finally stopped moving and they silently walked towards the door leading to the old wizard’s office. Knocking on the wood gently, Harry entered the room with the blond trailing behind.

Dumbledore, who had been sitting behind his big, mahogany desk, stood up and smiled. “Ah, Mister Potter. Mister Malfoy,” he tilted his head in greeting as he gazed at them from behind his half moon spectacles. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the 2 large, purple armchairs in front of him and each boy took their respective seats. “Lemon drop?” He held up a small bowl containing the sour candies.

Both boys shook their heads.

The headmaster gently set the bowl back down before sitting down in his own chair, hands clasping together as he rested his elbows on the desk. “I dare say you boys have something you wish to speak to me about? Unless of course, you sought me out only out of sheer boredom, in which case I must apologize both for making assumptions and also informing you of the fact that I am, unfortunately, not very interesting company to keep.” Dumbledore continued to smile at them, blue eyes twinkling in mirth as he flicked his thoughtful gaze from Harry to Malfoy and back to Harry again, awaiting their response.

Harry threw Malfoy a sidelong glance and was taken aback to see the usually haughty and arrogant blond staring fixedly at his hands with such an expression of forlorn that Harry wondered in bewilderment what the Slytherin could be so suddenly distressed about. Sensing that Malfoy wasn’t going to be addressing the old man anytime soon, Harry faced Dumbledore — who was still gazing patiently at them — and spoke on behalf of the blond. “I’m, er, actually not sure what we’re here for. Parkinson and Zabini told me to meet Malfoy here and I haven’t got a clue why.” He scratched the back of his head as he spared another glance at Malfoy, who was still staring fixedly at his hands.

“Ah, Miss Parkinson and Mister Zabini. Friends of yours, Mister Malfoy, are they not?”

Malfoy nodded his head in agreement.

“Ah, yes. They both approached me at the beginning of term and I must admit, I was quite surprised by what they had to divulge. Such bright students, they are. I wondered when I would be seeing you as well, Mister Malfoy.”

Realization dawned on Harry as he slowly comprehended Dumbledore’s words. _Was Malfoy here to… ask Dumbledore for protection? Were the Malfoy’s defecting too?_ He was shaken out of his pondering when he heard the blond’s nearly inaudible voice from beside him. He had to strain his ears to catch the Slytherin’s next words.

“You know why I’m here.” It wasn’t a question.

Dumbledore regarded Malfoy silently for a few moments before speaking. “That I do, Draco.” He unclasped his hands and leaned forward on his desk, continuing to gaze at Malfoy solemnly. “You understand — with the choice you are making — that there may be a considerable amount of jeopardy towards both you and your family?”

Malfoy suddenly whisked his head up, directing his furious gaze straight at the headmaster, and Harry visibly shrunk back in his seat, wincing on behalf of Dumbledore as he saw the blond’s face contort into a mixture of resentment, wry amusement, and a small amount of panicked terror as he continued to glare scathingly at the old wizard. _If looks could kill…_

Malfoy let out a sharp, humorless laugh and continued to glower coldly at the headmaster. “ _There may be a considerable amount of jeopardy?_ Is this your horrible attempt at humor or are your really as daft as everybody says you are?” He let out a sharp snort. “You don’t think I don’t know what’s going to happen? You don’t think I’m aware of what the Dark Lord is capable of? The moment he finds out mother and I have defected, we’re as good as dead!” Another dry laugh emerged from the blond as he continued on his tirade, seemingly unable to stop. “Bet the nutty old tosser would love that. He’d been waiting for an excuse to A.K my entire family the minute father landed himself in Azkaban.”

Harry, who had been admiring the pale haired boy as he spoke, rapidly withdrew his gaze and stared down at his hands in sudden fascination. He still wasn’t entirely sure if Malfoy was angry at him over his fathers imprisonment or not. Fully expecting the Slytherin to hex or punch him upon his arrival on the first day of term, Harry was more than a little taken aback to realize that the blond had treated him no differently than usual. Besides the usual name calling or occasional argument over smaller, trivial matters, Malfoy had seemed to ignore Harry’s involvement with Lucius’ arrest completely and had never once brought it up. Realizing that he had missed bits of the conversation whilse reminiscing, he shifted his attention away from his fidgeting hands and back to Malfoy.

“—task of killing you! Did you know? He gave me no choice! He ordered me to do it!” The blond pulled at his usually impeccable hair in frustration and stared at the headmaster incredulously, pausing as he let out a wobbly breath. “Are you mental? Why are you staring at me like that? Don’t you understand? He chose me! I had to do it. I had to kill you. Or he would kill me!*” Malfoy, who had stood up sometime during his lengthy rant, sank down unceremoniously into the cushioned seat as he released yet another shaky breath.

Harry felt nauseous. And for the first time in a long while, it had absolutely nothing to do with the lack of food in his stomach. _Voldemort ordered Malfoy to kill Dumbledore? Was Malfoy actually planning on doing it?!_ He suddenly felt like he would be sick. Malfoy, as irritating and horrible as he was, had never seemed like the type to murder. He felt as if the ground was ripped out from under him. _Was everything he seemed to know about the blond completely wrong?_ He inwardly shook his head. _Stop it, Harry. Calm down and think rationally_. A voice that sounded remarkably like Hermione said. O _bviously Malfoy wouldn’t have done it. He’d come to Dumbledore, hadn’t he? He didn’t want to kill him. He was terrified. That’s why Parkinson and Zabini wanted you to meet him today — so you could listen to what he had to say._

Appeased with his reasoning, he shifted his attention on to the headmaster, who Harry was surprised to see gazing serenely down at Malfoy over his half moon frames, pride sparkling in his pale blue eyes. The old wizard seemed completely unfazed by the revelation of his potential demise and looked content and well at ease. _Of course_. Harry smiled slightly to himself. _Dumbledore always seems to know everything._

Malfoy was back to staring firmly down at his lap and was therefore oblivious to the pleased smile the headmaster directed at him. Letting out a soft exhale, the blond closed his eyes and whispered softly, murmuring to himself. “This was a mistake.”

Harry’s heart felt like it was going to burst. He had never heard Malfoy sound so broken. Ignoring the years of animosity between them, Harry hesitantly reached out and lay what he hoped to be a comforting hand on the lean boy’s knee. He couldn’t help it — the usual scornful and cold expression that always seemed to grace the blond’s features were currently nowhere in sight. Malfoy, for the first time, seemed like a normal teenage boy, and Harry was suddenly struck by how helpless and vulnerable the usually icy Slytherin prince appeared. Malfoy minutely lifted his head up, staring blankly for a moment at the hand resting on his knee, before jerking his knee back in belated surprise. It was probably the first time Harry had ever touched Malfoy in a way that didn’t end in violence and he quickly snatched his hand back in embarrassment as he felt his face heat. Dumbledore, who had been silently watching the short exchange, smiled softly in quiet amusement before lightly clearing his throat and speaking in a gentle voice.

“We must all make the choice between what is right and what is easy*, Draco. I must admit, your confession of the task Lord Voldemort had given you did not come as a surprise to me. In fact, I knew of his intentions before he divulged them to even you, but know this: tonight you have made a monumental decision — one that could not have been easy for you, but a decision you made nonetheless — and that, Draco, is the farthest thing possible from what you believe to be a mistake.”

The blond looked up miserably for a brief moment before training his eyes back down onto his lap. “The Dark Lord will kill me for this. I’ve failed — in every way imaginable.”

Dumbledore continued to gaze calmly at Malfoy. “Failure, Draco,” he began, “is the opportunity to begin again — only more intelligently.” Harry ran the words through his head, wondering again why everything that came out of the old wizard’s mouth had to be so cryptic, and waited for the headmaster to elaborate. Dumbledore, however, seemed to have said everything he wanted to say for he was now staring directly at Harry with startling clarity. “I trust, Harry, that you will inform Draco of the Order?”

He nodded slightly. “Of course, headmaster. Should I tell Remus and the others that, erm, Malfoy is, uh, well that Malfoy and his mum need, er…” he scratched the back of his head and blew out a breath, unsure on how to phrase his next words.

Malfoy let out a small groan and placed his head in his hands as he muttered something unintelligible into his palms.

Dumbledore chuckled gently and gazed at Harry with amusement glimmering in his eyes. “If what I am assuming what you are attempting to voice is correct — then no, my boy. I shall deal with enlightening them myself of their newest safeguard mission. Your job is to make sure Draco here, is informed of how well secured the Order is.” He directed his light blue eyes at Malfoy, who was still leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, head buried in pale hands. “I believe that is all you wished to speak to me about, Mister Malfoy?”

Draco nodded once and sat upright.

“Then I dare say it is time for all of us to go enjoy a nice feast. I know the elves have been working very hard for tonight’s dinner.” The old wizard stood up from his chair and both boys did the same. He glanced in between Harry and Draco before settling his gaze on the blond. “It is not good to dwell on what has already been done, Draco. Trust in the decision you have made and trust that I, along with the Order, will do everything in our power to help. You have friends here who are willing to go above and beyond to support you. If you ever wish to speak to me,” he stopped and exchanged an amused look with Harry before continuing. “well, you know the password.” He winked at the Slytherin and smiled.

“Thank you, headmaster,” Malfoy muttered, cheeks flushed, as he slightly inclined his head. He turned to leave and Harry followed suit when a soft cough caused both boys to turn back around again.

“Mister Potter, do you mind speaking to me for a few moments? Draco, you may head down to dinner.” Harry exchanged one last look with Malfoy before the latter shrugged and made towards the door. Wondering if the headmaster was going to talk more about Malfoy without the blond present, Harry sat back down in the chair he was occupying just moments before and faced the old wizard as he curiously and eagerly awaited the coming conversation. Dumbledore observed him thoughtfully as he too situated himself back into his seat and Harry moved restlessly around in the soft armchair, becoming more and more agitated as the wise wizard continued to regard him silently. Finally, Dumbledore cleared his throat and sent Harry a smile that didn’t seem to quite reach his usual twinkling, blue eyes. Harry instantly knew something was wrong.

“Classes are going well, I presume?” Dumbledore inquired gently.

Harry nodded slowly. Well, that definitely was not what he was expecting to hear.

“I’ve heard from Poppy that you are studying for your NEWT examinations already?”

Harry blanched. He had fabricated the random lie about NEWTS to the mediwitch when he had been in the infirmary earlier in the week and he hadn’t been expecting Pomfrey to actually speak to Dumbledore about it. “Er, yeah. Hermione’s been helping me a lot recently.” He played with his hands and glanced nervously around the room, looking at anything but the headmaster.

Dumbledore made a quiet noise of acknowledgement. “And I presume you are eating well? After all, NEWTS and studying, though important, are not everything.” He was gazing intently at Harry, fiddling with his thumbs as he leaned back in his chair.

Harry, who had been studying the portraits of former headmasters cluttering the office walls, whipped his head back around and met the headmaster’s gaze for the first time since the private conversation began. “Yeah, yeah of course. Erm, Ron and I, we —” he cleared his throat and fidgeted in his seat. “We always race to see who can finish off their plate faster. Hermione hates it.” He tried to smile hesitantly up at the old wizard, but quickly gave up when he realized it probably looked more like a grimace. Now extremely desperate for the conversation to be over, he hastily spit out his next words. “Actually, I’m pretty hungry right now and I really don’t want Ron to eat everything, so could I please be excused? And, uh, I would like to tell Malfoy about the Order as soon as possible…” he trailed off and resumed staring at the portraits. Dumbledore was silent for a few moments and Harry refused to meet his all-knowing gaze. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he heard a small sigh.

“Certainly. I will, of course, be seeing you at dinner, Harry.”

Vigorously nodding his head, Harry shot up from his seat. “Yes, er, I’ll be going now. Thank you headmaster. See you at dinner,” he echoed as he bowed his head and rapidly made his way towards the door before Dumbledore could get another word in. As soon as he stepped out into the corridor, Harry let out a great, big breath. _Dumbledore knows! Well of course he knows. He knows everything._ He couldn’t help but feel anxious. _Dumbledore won’t do anything, right? He won’t tell anyone_? His train of worried thoughts continued all the way down to the Great Hall. _Stop it, Harry. Stop thinking about yourself! Do you really have that horrid of a memory or are you just daft? Malfoy’s in bigger trouble than you are — you need to think about him!_

As he made his way into the Great Hall, he glanced at the Slytherin table where he saw the silvery, blond hair of Malfoy and the jet black hair of Parkinson leaning in towards one another, whispering vigorously about, no doubt, the conversation that just took place in the headmaster’s office. He sat down next to Ginny at his own table, too busy to notice that Ron and Hermione were sitting elsewhere, and continued to watch the duo intently, wondering when would be the best time to tell the Slytherin about the Order of the Phoenix.

Suddenly, Malfoy lifted his head up and met Harry’s eyes. Embarrassed to have been caught ogling him, Harry quickly darted his gaze away, only to make eye contact with a new set of eyes. Dumbledore was now sitting at his usual spot at the high table and seemed to be observing Harry carefully. Remembering the odd conversation he’d had with the headmaster, Harry swept his eyes away from the wizard and onto the table full of food in front of him. Mentally calculating the calories in each dish, he opted for the “healthiest” one and dumped a fair portion of the food onto this plate. Nonchalantly shifting his gaze around the room, he glanced back at the high table and was pleased to see that Professor McGonagall had captured the old wizard’s attention. Satisfied that Dumbledore’s attention was now focused elsewhere, Harry let out a quiet sigh, pushed his plate away, and dropped his head down on to the table with a loud _thunk!_

Ginny, who had been laughing merrily at Seamus’ surprisingly accurate impression of Snape, glanced over at Harry and ruffled his hair. “What is it, Harry?”

He slowly lifted his head up and smiled tightly at her before muttering the three words that he had seemed to voice over and over again to all his friends. “Nothing, just tired.” Turning away from Ginny’s worried gaze, he faced Seamus — who now seemed to be impersonating Umbridge — and spoke with forced cheerfulness. “Hey Seamus, do that one of Snape again?”

Seamus’ answering grin rivaled that of a cheshire cat. _“10 points from Gryffindor, Potter, for daring to think that a ridiculous little swine like yourself can order me around!”_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is terrified of food. Draco Malfoy is terrified for his life. An unlikely friendship forms when the 2 come together to save each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter isn't too choppy! Enjoy and thank you for all your kind words :)

Malfoy, Draco: Cool. Calm. Collected. Ready for anything and everything that could come his way.

…

Oh circe’s tits, who was he kidding? Draco was feeling far from cool, calm, or collected. Despite his mother’s reassurances that he had done the right thing, Draco couldn’t help but feel like he had just sentenced his family to death. No one — aside from his two friends, Potter, Dumbledore, and his mother — knew of the Malfoy family’s change of loyalty and he planned to keep it that way. Draco had never felt more grateful to Potter than he did now for placing his father in Azkaban. If Lucius had known that his dear family was planning on siding with “the worst thing that could happen to Hogwarts,” well, the Dark Lord wouldn’t have been the only one with plans for murder.

Physically shaking his head in the hopes that flinging his head around would actually rid his thoughts of all things You-Know-Who related, he took a deep breath and stepped into the Potions classroom. Surprised to see Potter already sitting at their shared table, he wove around the gossiping students and made his way to his seat. He had been furious at first when Severus had assigned him to be partners with the Golden Boy. Out of all the Gryffindors in Double Potions, of bloody fucking course he had to be paired up with the only other person that could compete with Longbottom for Worst Potions Maker Possible. The hopeless pillock was dreadful at the subject and Draco had no plans of letting Potter ruin his near perfect marks. Now though, he really didn’t mind. As horrible as Potter was, he listened to direction relatively well and was decent enough not to disrupt Draco when he was lost in thought while working together.

Harry kept his head down on the table, buried between his arms, even when Snape strode into the classroom with his black robes billowing around him. Without waiting for the chatter to subside, Snape spoke in a crisp voice. “You will be finishing the Fame Remedium potions you have started last week. Both partners will test their creations when completed. Cauldrons are lined at the back of the room, one student, and _one student only, Mister Finnigan_ ,” he voiced in a stony tone as he directed his beady stare at the Irish Gryffindor, “from each table may get up to retrieve their cauldron and all ingredients still necessary. Longbottom and Finnigan,” he barked, “do try to keep your brains functioning long enough to keep the explosions to a minimum today.” And with that said, Snape promptly spun on his heel, robes still billowing around him, (and how in the name of Salazar Slytherin does he always manage to _do_ that? Draco had tried once in the privacy of his own dorm, but had immediately stopped when he had caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror looking like a dancing troll) and headed into his small office.

Draco glanced sideways at Potter, who continued to sit with his head and arms resting on the table, ignoring the fact that class had started and the other students were already up and gathering their equipment. Rolling his eyes, Draco jabbed him in the side with a pointed finger and opened his mouth to speak when the Gryffindor suddenly tumbled sideways out of his stool and on to the ground, hands clutching the side Draco had poked. The blond stared, open mouthed, finger still hovering in the air as he watched Potter turn a bright red, picking himself up off the floor.

“What the hell is your problem, Malfoy?!” Harry roughly swiped Draco’s hand out of the way and pointed his own finger at the Slytherin. “Don’t fucking touch me! What are you, _bent?_ ” He sneered, green eyes blazing with fury. Those nearest to them raised their heads up in interest and watched the two boys in anticipation. Draco stood stock still, still startled by Potter’s overdramatic reaction to a small poke in the ribs. It’s not like this was the first time Draco had ever laid hands on the scrawny tosser. He was mystified as to why he had reacted so harshly. Before Draco could retaliate, the dark haired boy stormed off in the direction of the cauldrons. Disappointed by the lack of a full blown brawl, the rest of their classmates turned back to their own work.

Potter returned less than 5 minutes later, holding their cauldron and the last few ingredients they needed, looking less enraged and more rueful as he gingerly set the metal down onto the table. “Er…” He carded a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “Sorry. Just — just don’t touch me there again, alright?” He mumbled the last few words and Draco had to strain his ears to hear properly.

Lacking the energy to fight with the Gryffindor, Draco just shrugged and turned towards the cauldron. “Whatever, Potter. Let’s just finish this.” The dark haired boy seemed more than willing to agree and he too turned towards the potion. “We just need to add a drop of both Essence of Comfrey and Boom Berry juice,” voiced Draco. Potter enthusiastically handed the ingredients over, keeping his head down and eyes away from the blond. Ignoring the Gryffindor’s strange and erratic behavior, he carefully added a small dollop of both ingredients into the potion before stirring it counter-clockwise. Briefly darting his gaze away from the brewing liquid, he glanced at Potter, who — to his extreme irritation — was only standing idly by as Draco continued to do all the work. Bloody typical.

“As hard as it may be to wrap your head around,” Draco sneered, “not everyone worships the ground you walk on, oh mighty Chosen One, so I would bloody well appreciate it if you could actually use that useless brain of yours to help me with this potion — not that I need it — instead of dawdling around watching me do all the work.” He threw the Gryffindor an icy glare before turning his attention back to the potion. “Check the textbook to see what color Fame Remedium’s supposed to be,” Draco ordered as he studiously continued to keep his eyes trained on the bubbling concoction, oblivious to the scowl the raven haired boy sent his way.

“It says here to continue to stir until it turns into an iridescent purple.”

Not acknowledging Potter, Draco silently proceeded to stir the liquid. The silence only lasted for a few minutes however, when a small cough grabbed his attention. “Hey, er, Malfoy?”

Rolling his eyes, Draco didn’t bother looking up from the potion as he deadpanned, “that is my name, Potter. How smart of you to notice.” He heard a big sigh from beside him.

“Gods Malfoy, do you always have to be such a prat all the time?”

“Yep.” Draco cheerfully popped the P and smirked when he heard another sigh come from the boy.

“Listen,” Potter sounded weary now and Draco cheered to himself in triumph. “I know you hate me and can’t stand to be near me, but you heard what Dumbledore said. I’ve got to tell you about the—” he lowered his voice to a whisper and glanced around before continuing. “You need to know about the Order of the Phoenix.

Potter had barely finished speaking when Draco looked up and blurt out, “I don’t hate you.” Eyes widening and pale cheeks quickly flushing with color, Draco hurriedly turned his horror struck face back down to face the potion as he mentally kicked himself. _Of all the things to say, you have to go and say **that?**_

He let out a barely concealed sigh of relief when he saw the bubbling potion in front of him turn from a light lavender to a shimmering, silvery purple. Without facing Potter, for he was sure his cheeks were still very red, he spoke in what he hoped to be his usual, drawling voice. “Potion’s finished. Go grab vials we can drink from.” He heard, rather than saw, Potter shuffle away towards the front of the classroom to retrieve two glass vials they could deposit their potion in before testing. As soon as the Gryffindor was out of earshot, Draco let out a small groan. Potter probably thought he was a complete nutter. He had absolutely no idea what had possessed him to divulge that little piece of information to his long time school nemesis. The stupid prat was probably going to laugh about it with his equally stupid Gryffindor pals. Draco could already imagine how the conversation would go.

_Poor little Malfoy thinks we can be best mates now that he’s on my side. Wasn’t one rejected offer of friendship clue enough that I want nothing to do with him? Hatred or no hatred, he’ll always be ferret face to me._

But no, Potter wouldn’t do that. He was much too kind and noble — damn him for being the bloody Gryffindor poster boy — and the worst he could do was to just act like he usually would towards the blond. In fact, maybe Potter hadn’t even heard his quiet confession. Draco let out a defeated sigh. If only he were that lucky.

“Er, Malfoy? I got the vials.”

He was startled out of his brooding by Potter’s approach. Thanking Lucius for years of haughty, Pureblood training, Draco quickly put up his cool Malfoy mask and grabbed the small, glass holders from the raven haired boy, hands lightly brushing as he did so. Potter quickly jerked his hand back and Draco, embarrassment quickly turning into anger, glared daggers at the bespectacled boy. “My apologizes,” he sneered. “I must have forgotten how much you loathed to be touched by someone who’s _bent_.” He spat the last word out, repeating the words the Gryffindor had said to him at the beginning of class. Potter’s eyes widened in confusion before a look of realization dawned across his features a moment later. Draco watched through stormy, grey eyes as the scrawny boy brought a hand up to scratch the back of his head.

“You’re gay?”

Draco let out a rough bark of humorless laughter. “Piss off, Potter,” he retorted in what he hoped was a cold voice. Honestly, Draco was kicking himself for letting anger cloud his common sense. _First, you tell the git you don’t hate him. Now, you tell him you’re gay? Well done, Draco._ Only Pansy and Blaise had known of his preference to the same gender and now Potter did too. He really wish he had a time turner right about now. Focusing his attention back on to the finished potion, he carefully poured a small amount of the purple liquid into each vial, ignoring the boy fidgeting next to him.

“No, no!” Potter squawked. “Earlier, at the beginning of class, what I said to you, erm, I didn’t mean it. I just was surprised that’s all. It would be like the pot calling the kettle black… or whatever. Er, and what you said to me before, um—” Potter let out a big breath and shoved his hands into his robe pockets. “Idonthateyoueither.” He looked away then, a small pink flush rising to his cheeks.

Completely caught off guard by his response, Draco looked up at the dark haired boy in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

Seeming to gather up some of his famous Gryffindor courage, Potter stared directly at Draco and spoke clearly. “I said I don’t hate you either.” He paused. “And I’m, er, gay too.” Draco was amused to note the look of disdain that crossed Potter’s face as he confessed his attraction towards other men. He didn’t seem to notice it himself, however, and continued to speak hurriedly. “But I would really appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone. I haven’t exactly told people yet…”

Delighted despite himself, Draco let out a small snort of amusement. “Are you telling me that I’m the first person to know that everyone’s favorite Boy Hero is a queer?” Draco let out another snort at the ridiculousness of the situation. Not only did they not hate each other, they were both completely bent! Harry smiled sheepishly at the blond.

“Yeah, I guess you are.” He cleared his throat, suddenly looking serious. “Do people know that you’re, uh, _you know?”_

Eyes dancing in mirth, Draco gazed cooly at the spluttering Gryffindor. _“You know?”_ He mocked. I believe the word you’re looking for is gay? Bent? Nancy? A fairy?” He let out a small chuckle. “You can say the word, Potter. It’s not taboo. And to answer your ridiculously worded question — yes, but only Pansy and Blaise know.”

Harry stared at him, eyes wide. “They don’t care?”

Draco frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, er, don’t they think it’s weird or unnatural?” He paused for a moment, struggling to find the correct words. “Don’t _you_ think it’s a bit strange? Liking boys I mean?” He ran a nervous hand through his hair.

Draco’s frown deepened. “Of course not. We can’t help who we love. I’m not ashamed of who I am,” he sniffed. “I am a Malfoy after all.” He observed Potter, who seemed to be fidgeting under his gaze. “Why do you ask?”

Harry looked down at their cauldron uncomfortably. “No reason. Just—” he sighed. “Nevermind. I’ll tell you about the Order later, yeah? Right now you should test the potion. Snape will probably be coming around soon.” He reached for one of the glass vials Draco had filled earlier and handed it to him.

Draco balked. _“I_ should test the potion? What are you, a piece of lump that can’t do anything? I think not, Potter. We’ll _both_ be testing the potion.” He grabbed the second glass vial and shoved it into the Gryffindor’s chest. Harry let out a sigh and gently tried to push his hand away.

“Malfoy, listen. I can’t, alright? Just please, test it yourself.”

Draco peered at the messy haired boy in suspicion and drew his hand back. “Why? Have you poisoned it when I wasn’t looking?” He kept his eyes fixed on Potter as he deliberately brought the small container up to his nose to sniff.

Harry just let out another small sigh and spoke in a soft, pleading voice. “Please. It’ll make me sick.”

“Potter, I don’t know why you’ve been acting stranger than usual today, but this isn’t going to make you sick. It’s medicinal. It’s to cure hunger. Hence the name. Any of this ringing a bell? We haven’t, or I guess it’s more fitting to say, _I_ haven’t botched it up. I assure you — you will be perfectly fine. I am the best in potions after all.” Draco sniffed daintily before throwing his head back and downing the liquid. He slammed the vial down on the table as if it were a cool, glass of Firewhiskey and held a hand up as he remained silent for a few moments. After counting to ten in his head, he looked at Harry and smirked. “See? It’s completely harmless, as I knew it would be.” Draco was pleased to note that the potion seemed to have worked perfectly. He was tasting his favorite childhood dish of Shepard’s Pie as well as the mystery dessert the Malfoy’s house elves always served when he was in a particularly bad mood. Though he hadn’t been feeling hungry before, he was gratified to feel a warm, content ache in his belly, as if he were stuffed with a comfortable amount of food.

Potter continued to stare at Draco with an air of unease. “Malfoy…”

Irritated by Potter’s unwillingness, he rolled his eyes and let out a big breath as he faced the uncooperative prat. “Just take the damn potion, Potter!” The dark haired Gryffindor looked as if he were about to argue back when suddenly a shadow loomed over both boys.

“I believe I clearly stated that _both_ partners would be testing their creations, Mister Potter,” a deep, crisp voice said. “Or did you believe you were exempt from these rules?” Snape sneered nastily. “Take the potion, Potter, or I will thoroughly enjoy watching over your detention for the next 2 weeks.” He smiled sinisterly at the bespectacled boy and Draco watched as the soft, pleading look Potter had worn before suddenly transform into one of fierce determination. Glaring straight at the professor, Harry downed the purple liquid and paused for a moment before tentatively setting the glass vial back on to their shared table.

“That wasn’t so difficult now was it, scarhead?” Draco taunted and the greasy haired professor shot Potter an unamused and distasteful look before striding to the next table, black cloth swirling behind him. Potter, who was now leaning against the table with one hip, ignored Draco as he closed his eyes, face briefly twisting up into a grimace. He absently ran a hand across his stomach and Draco watched as the dark haired boy’s frown deepened.

Rolling his eyes at Potter’s dramatic antics, he turned towards him and said in his haughtiest voice, “clean this all up, would you, potty? _I’ve_ created a perfect batch of Fame Remedium so it’s only fitting for _you_ to do the servant’s work.”

Harry, who’s eyes were still closed, ignored Draco’s last jibe and murmured something unintelligible before taking his wand out and lazily flicking his hand. Before Draco could react, the purple potion that had been silently bubbling away, splattered out of the cauldron and onto his robes and hair. Fuming, he turned towards Potter who was now looking at him through wide eyes.

“Shite! Sorry Malfoy, I swear I didn’t mean to do that!” He pointed his wand at Draco and opened his mouth to voice a cleaning charm when the blond quickly slapped his hand away.

“Forget it, Potter,” he hissed. “Don’t even think about pointing that thing at me.” With a quick flick of his wrist, Draco spat out a _scourgify_ , effectively clearing the messy potion and all ingredients and equipments that was previously littering the table. He absolutely hated using cleaning charms on himself and made a note to stop by the lavatory before his next class to survey his appearance. After all, he was a Malfoy and it wouldn’t do to strut around the castle looking less than pristine. Ignoring Potter’s continuous apologizes, (and since when did _Potter_ apologize?) he elegantly sat down on to his stool and bent forward to grab his Ancient Runes notes to look over while he waited for class to end. The clumsy Gryffindor finally seemed to realize that Draco was tuning him out and he too sank down into his seat. After a few silent moments, the blond briefly flicked his eyes towards Harry who was back to resting his head on the cool table, one arm circled around his stomach.

Banishing all thoughts of the dark haired boy from his mind, he focused his attention back onto his notes. Draco had been so absorbed in his studies that he hadn’t even realized that Severus had dismissed the class until Potter rudely elbowed him in the side as he abruptly tried to grab his things. Before Draco could throw the obnoxious git a withering remark, the scrawny boy was already out the door.

Grumbling to himself about the righteous Boy Hero’s social graces, or the lack thereof, Draco gathered up his own books and carefully placed them in his bag as he strode out of the Potions classroom and into the packed corridor. Gliding through the throng of students, he headed in the direction of the lavatory, all the while muttering about an idiotic and clumsy messy haired Gryffindor.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Rushing out of Double Potions, Harry walked as quickly as he could to the nearest lavatory. He knew that he was being silly to be so worked up over the phantom foods currently occupying his stomach, but he couldn’t help the habitual urge to puke when he felt the uncomfortable tightness of his middle. Hurriedly shoving his way past a horde of students with only a mumbled “excuse me” in response to the irritated grunts, he turned the corridor and rushed inside the boys lavatory. Breathing a sigh of relief to see the unoccupied restroom, he briskly made his way to an empty stall as a wave of nausea suddenly rolled over him.

With shaky legs, Harry lowered himself to the floor and knelt in front of the toilet. Raising a trembling hand, he stuck two fingers into his mouth with practiced ease and stroked the back of his throat as he began to gag. This was like second nature to him. He felt the familiar comfort of control as he watched through rapidly watering eyes the few bites of celery he was unable to expel earlier due to lack of time, and the purple liquid of his and Malfoy’s Fame Remedium potion mix with the toilet water. Using his free hand, he brushed his hair back from his face as he braced himself against the porcelain bowl. He had just leaned forward again to coax more out of him when suddenly the door to the lavatory opened with a loud bang.

“…to defeat the Dark Lord if he can’t even do a simple cleaning charm… ruined my hair.”

Harry’s eyes widened as he heard the familiar tenor of his potions partner. Silently praying that Malfoy hadn’t seen his hunched form through the large gap in the bottom of the stall door, he gingerly picked himself up off the floor and made to sit properly on the toilet when suddenly he got a whiff of the spit up in the bowl and another strong surge of queasiness rolled through him. Forgetting that he was supposed to stay silent, he quickly sank back down onto the ground and leaned his head over the bowl. Unable to stop the sickly noises emerging from his throat, he gagged into the toilet, oblivious of the fact that Malfoy’s murmured monologue had stopped.

Harry gripped the toilet bowl, knuckles turning white, as he massaged the back of his throat, uncaring if Malfoy could hear him now. After all, it’s not like he would know who was in the cubicle.

Harry finally stopped, but only after seeing red — blood — mixing in with the purple liquid and green colored mush he had already expelled. Grabbing a bit of tissue, he wiped his saliva soaked fingers on it and dropped it into the toilet before flushing it. Harry stood, watching the sick swirl away before leaning his back against the stall door with his heart pounding and head spinning. He hated this part the most. Even after months of this vicious cycle, he always felt dreadful immediately after purging. The effects were especially jarring today and Harry guessed the potion had something to do with it.

Aware of how harsh his breathing was in the otherwise silent room, he laid a hand on his heart and tried to calm down. He wasn’t sure if Malfoy was still there or not, but he hoped to Merlin that the blond had left. With a big shuddery breath, he slowly pushed himself off of the door and turned around, unlatching the lock.

To say that Harry was surprised would be an understatement. Not only was Malfoy still in the lavatory, he was directly across from Harry, casually leaning on a sink with his arms crossed. The Slytherin’s unyielding gaze pierced straight through Harry and the dark haired boy quickly darted his eyes away, cheeks inexplicably heating up as he slowly walked to the sink two over from the one Malfoy was still currently leaning on. Aware of the blond’s sharp and inquiring eyes, Harry turned the tap on and washed his hands, keeping his own gaze firmly trained down onto the sink. He winced a little when he noticed a small lump of purple tinted celery on the edge of his robe sleeve and quickly held it under the flowing water.

“Alright there, scarhead?”

Momentarily forgetting that the blond was still in the lavatory with him, he quickly glanced up, only to train his eyes away when met with a searching grey scrutinization. Turning the tap off, he cleared his throat and wiped his wet hands messily on the front of his robe, which he was relieved to note was still clean and untouched by regurgitated foods.

“Told you I’d be sick if—” Harry abruptly cut off his speech, horrified by the raspiness of his voice. He winced as he saw Malfoy delicately raise one eyebrow.

“I see.”

Cheeks rapidly filling with color again, Harry dropped his chin down to his chest as he made his way towards the exit, mumbling about class and unwanted detentions from tardies. Just before he could reach the door however, Malfoy called his name.

“Potter?”

Cursing the fact that he hadn’t left faster, he slowly turned around and gritted his teeth. “Yes?”

Malfoy didn’t respond. Instead he pushed himself off of the sink and walked forward until he was right in front of Harry. Flushing from the blond’s proximity, Harry swallowed nervously as his eyes widened and he prayed to whoever would listen that he didn’t smell terribly like his own sick. Looking up, — _damn Malfoy for being taller than him_ — he forced himself to keep his eyes trained on Malfoy, who was silently flicking his penetrative gaze across Harry’s face. After a few more seconds of deafening silence, the Slytherin took a step back. “Saturday. Room of Requirement. 8 pm.”

Taken aback, Harry let out a small, undignified squeak and asked, “what?” Wincing at his still hoarse voice, Harry held a hand up to his throat and gingerly massaged it. He thought he saw a frown dance across Malfoy’s face, but it was gone as fast as it had come and was replaced with the usual pompous Malfoy mask that Harry was sure he had imagined it.

“You need to tell me about the Order, correct? Saturday. 8 pm. Room of Requirement. It’s the perfect place to talk if you wish for privacy.”

Harry nodded in agreement and carded a slightly trembling hand through his messy hair. “Right. Okay. Er… okay.”

Malfoy snorted and brushed past Harry. “See you then, Potter.” And with that, the blond was gone and out the door before Harry could respond. The Gryffindor stood there for a moment longer, still feeling faintly lightheaded, though not entirely from purging, before he too exited the lavatory and made his way to his next lesson, all the while thinking of how good Malfoy had smelled standing so close to him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is terrified of food. Draco Malfoy is terrified for his life. An unlikely friendship forms when the 2 come together to save each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter up! I've been pretty busy recently and unfortunately it will be about a week or two before Chapter 7 will go up. Thank you for the kudos and comments! Enjoy :)
> 
> *Quote was taken directly from book

Dinner was a quiet affair. Or at least it was until Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan sat down at the Gryffindor table hand in hand. Hermione offered her congrats. Ron and Neville gave them manly pats on the back. Ginny cheered and whooped and hollered. Luna, who had opted to sit with the Gryffindors that day, smiled dreamily at them. Harry dropped his spoon onto his plate with a loud _clank!_

“It’s about bloody time!” Ginny yelled while wrapping a strong, freckly arm around a blushing Dean and yanking him towards her.

“Here, here!” Cried Ron.

“It’s lovely that the Wrackspurts have gone now,” Luna commented vaguely as she twisted her hair into a braid.

“Gran’s always predicted you two would get together when I wrote home about you lot,” Neville said as he grinned at Seamus who was giving him two giant thumbs up.

“I think it’s wonderful!” Hermione exclaimed. “Of course now Lavender Brown is going to be upset. She was so sure you fancied her!”

Seamus made a face in mock disgust and Dean wrapped a protective arm around the smaller man’s shoulders while chuckling, one dimple showing. “Well, that’s just too bad for Lavender then.” He turned his face towards Seamus and smiled down at him.

Harry, who had been shocked into silence, finally spluttered out in a larger than necessary voice, “you guys are poofters?” The loud chattering and happy laughter immediately subsided as 6 pairs of eyes turned to look at him in surprise.

Seamus shrugged Dean’s arm off his shoulder and glared at Harry. “Got a problem with that, mate?”

Harry hastily held up both his hands. “No, no! Gods, _no._  That came out very, very wrong,” he winced as Seamus continued to glower at him. Hermione and Ginny were gazing at him with identical expressions of confusion as Ron, Neville, and Dean warily watched Harry and Seamus. Luna continued to smile sweetly at him, seemingly unaware of the tension between the two boys. “I swear I’ve got no problem with it. I was just surprised that’s all. Didn’t realize you two had a thing for each other.” He swallowed nervously and smiled hesitantly at the Irish Gryffindor.

Seamus peered at him for a few moments longer before breaking out into a wide grin.  
“You wouldn’t be the only one. Neville just about passed out when he found out.” Both Seamus and Dean turned to look at the awkward teenage boy and Harry couldn’t help but let out a small laugh when he took in Neville’s abashed expression.

“I told you! I was still lightheaded from helping professor Sprout unroot the rest of the Mandrakes after the first year’s lessons! It had nothing to do with your announcement,” he huffed though he too was now smiling.

Dean let out a loud laugh and smirked. “Alright, Neville. Whatever you say.” With everyone’s attention back on the new couple, Harry blew out a breath and shook his head out. _Dean and Seamus. Together and… gay? Merlin._ He was bewildered by the news of course, but a part of him was relieved to note that none of his friends seemed to have a problem with the fact that both Seamus and Dean were interested in the same sex. Still, he was worried that they were only pretending to be accepting of it and he quickly grasped Hermione’s wrist, effectively grabbing her attention.

“Is something the matter?” She asked gently. Hermione was too perceptive for her own good. She always seemed to know when something was amiss. Harry let out a barely audible sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

“It’s nothing, really. Just — don’t you think it’s a little stran—” he quickly cut himself off as he was hit with a sense of deja vu. Remembering the very similar conversation he had with Malfoy earlier in the week during their potions class, he turned his head away and decided that speaking about it with his friend was a bad idea. If he asked Hermione what he had questioned to Malfoy, she would know that there was more to his curiosity than just a simple question. Shaking his head, he forced himself to smile at his bushy haired friend, who was peering at him with worry flooding her warm, brown eyes. “Nevermind. I’m just still surprised by it all I guess.”

Hermione smiled gently. “You’re handling the news much better than Neville did.” She let out a small giggle and patted the back of his hand before turning her attention to the rest of their table. Brain loaded with all kinds of new revelations and thoughts, Harry pushed his ‘half-eaten’ (more like ‘half-emptied’. Dumbledore was still keeping a watchful eye on him and Harry had no choice but to maintain a healthy appearance) food away and propped his chin on his hand.

He still had about two hours until he was due to meet Malfoy and he didn’t think he was up for spending time with the blond — not with all these thoughts swimming around in his head. Harry felt a soft tap on his shoulder through the fabric of his thick hoodie and he turned his head to come face to face with Luna and her Spectrespecs.

“Did you know that you have Wrackspurts all around your head?

“Er, do I?” Harry asked incredulously. Luna was always babbling to herself and anyone who would listen about Nargles and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and other supposedly ‘real’ creatures. “What exactly are Wrackspurts anyway, Luna?”

She smiled dreamily and took off her glasses. “A Wrackspurt… They’re invisible. They float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy…*”

“They make your brain go fuzzy? What do you mean?” Harry inquired, interested despite himself.

“Confusion, of course,” she replied in a sing-song voice. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Oh, er, yeah,” Harry muttered, entirely perplexed. He was definitely feeling confused, all right. Then again, he always was when he had a conversation with Luna.

“Dean and Seamus’ Wrackspurts disappeared when they started dating, you know. I’m sure yours will disappear too once you and Draco get together.”

Harry, who had been sipping on his water, made an undignified noise in the back of his throat as he started choking. Neville turned his head to look at Harry in concern and he waved his hand at the Gryffindor in a shooing motion as he coughed and spluttered. Smiling tentatively at both Harry and Luna, Neville turned back to the conversation he had been listening in on. After a few more seconds of trying desperately to clear his throat, Harry finally recovered and was able to sit back up straight, meeting Luna’s big blue eyes.

“Sorry, but what did you just say?” Harry asked in a hoarse voice.

Luna smiled, looking less dreamy and more lucid as she replied in a gentle voice, “You and Draco. I can see the way you two look at each other. It’s nothing to be ashamed of Harry. Does anyone know?”

Harry stared back at the blonde Ravenclaw in astonishment. “Know what?” He breathed, voice no louder than a whisper as he continued to stare at Luna with wide eyes and sweaty palms.

“That you fancy boys, of course!”

Harry blanched. “NO! I mean — no. Just,” he paused and let out a huge breath, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Luna. It’s not right for me to like other blokes. It’s… freaky,” Harry said in a quiet voice. His thoughts swept back to his time at the Dursley’s. _Freak. Unnatural. Abnormal_. He winced as he continued, “and I don’t know what you’re going on about Malfoy and I…” he trailed off and cleared his throat awkwardly.

Luna, who had been gradually elapsing back to her usual kind and dreamy manner, stared at Harry sharply, lips turned down in a small frown. “Freaky? Are you calling Dean and Seamus’ relationship freaky?” She paused for a moment, fiddling with the flowers she had put in her braid before continuing. “Are you calling _me_ freaky?”

“What? No, of course not! Dean and Seamus will be brilliant together,” he rushed out in one breath. “And, uh, you’re not freaky either. I mean, people call you loony, but you’re— oh shite. Forget I said that,” Harry winced. He took a sip from his water in the hopes that it would cool his warming face and coughed lightly. “Er, so you’re… gay too?”

Luna let out a melodic laugh, her unusually somber face dancing back to its familiar open appearance. “It’s alright, Harry. I know what people call me.” She gently placed the flowers previously residing in her hair down on to the table as she continued to speak in her usual dreamlike voice, “And no, not gay. I don’t like labels. I’m attracted to who I’m attracted to.” She smiled at him before directing her gaze to the variety of flowers resting on the edge of the table. “Aren’t flowers just the most lovely things you’ve ever seen? So beautiful… even if some are unusual to others.” Her expression lost it’s dreamlike quality as she stared at Harry again with fierce, yet soft eyes. “You’re like a flower, you know. Different, but beautiful. It’s a shame that you can’t see how wonderful you are yet.” Luna patted him on the shoulder and smiled. “It’s alright. You’ll grow to love yourself soon enough…” she trailed off as her eyes focused on something just past Harry’s shoulders. “Oh!”

Harry was just about to turn his head to try and see what had caught Luna’s attention when she let out a small giggle and started to speak again. “Nevermind that. I think I’ll go and look for some Dabblerblimps down by the boat house.” Withdrawing her wand, she flicked it once and the colorful flowers on the table twirled and twisted back into Luna’s hair. “Goodbye Harry!” She called in an airy voice as she placed her Spectrespecs back on her face before skipping down the length of the Great Hall. Harry watched as a few people huddled together, laughing and pointing at the carefree girl, and he couldn’t help but feel a wave of protectiveness over the eccentric blonde.

Letting out a sigh, he decided that he would just head to the Room of Requirement now — despite it still being too early — and said halfhearted goodbyes to his friends. As he placed his palms on the table to push himself off, he felt a small lump underneath his left hand and raised it, ready to flick off whatever disgusting crumb was stuck to it. He paused, however, when he saw a lone, white flower resting in the palm of his hand: Luna had forgotten one. Smiling to himself, he pocketed the delicate flower and rose from the table. One hand still placed inside the pocket of his hoodie, he twisted the small stem of the flower in between his thumb and forefinger as he made his way out the Great Hall doors.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Ignoring Blaise’s _extremely_ detailed and graphic retelling of his victorious accomplishment of finally getting into Justin Flinch-Fletchley’s pants, Draco gazed longingly at the back of Potter’s head. Distractedly humming in feigned acknowledgement when Blaise paused in his vivid storytelling to take a breath, Draco continued to carefully study the unruly black mess that Potter called hair as he eagerly awaited their coming rendezvous. He had just been admiring the way the Gryffindor’s dark hair curled slightly at the back of his neck when Draco suddenly shifted his eyes to see a vaguely familiar long haired blonde Ravenclaw staring at him with a strange expression that could only be described as dream-like and excitement combined.

  
“-listening? Draco!” Pansy gave him a hard shove in the shoulder and Draco let out a quiet “oof!” as he turned towards her.

  
“You know I bruise easily you great old brute!” He scowled at her fake innocent expression.

“Do you?” She asked in mock sweetness before scowling right back at him. “If _I_ have to suffer through Blaise’s disgusting yet strangely fascinating,” she turned to wink at the dark skinned Slytherin before continuing, “description of his late night conquests then _you_ need to as well.”

Before Draco could protest that he was listening (nee: wasn’t) thank-you-very-much, Blaise spoke in a faux earnest voice. “Leave the man alone, Pans. He was too busy drooling over Potter,” he smirked and Pansy let out a shrill giggle.

“I most definitely was _not_ ,” retorted Draco indignantly.

Pansy nodded at him solemnly. “You’re right.” She turned to Blaise then, lips turning up in a smirk. “He was ogling Loony Lovegood.”

Oh right. No wonder she had looked so familiar. Luna “Loony” Lovegood was the residential nutter at Hogwarts. She roamed around the grounds barefoot while speaking softly to herself about Moon Frogs and Heliopaths. _Pyscho_ path was more like it. It was all just a load of bollocks.

  
“Oy, Draco!” Blaise’s loud voice startled him out of his musing. “There’s your lover leaving now. Think he’s heading back to his dorms to get ready for the hot date you have planned?” That earned another round of giggles from Pansy and Draco ignored them both as he watched Potter walking out of the Great Hall. He wondered if he too should leave. It wouldn’t hurt to show up to their meeting — it was _not_ a date — early and that would give him plenty of time to calm himself before sitting with Potter. Alone. In a room. Where no one could reach them. Huffing, Draco took one last sip of pumpkin juice before standing up, decision made for him.

  
“Don’t wait up for me. I’m not sure how long this _meeting_ ,” he put emphasis on the word, “will take.”

Pansy smirked up at him. “Alright, darling. Just make sure to use protection.”

“And a silencing charm,” added Blaise.

Feeling his face warm, he rolled his eyes and bid them farewell as he left them still sniggering at the table. Walking through the relatively empty corridor, Draco was struck with a sudden thought. _What if Potter doesn’t even show up? No wait, he said he would be there. Why did he leave dinner so early then? Maybe he’s sick. After all, he’d hardly even touched his food. Wasn’t Potter **just** sick a few days ago though?_ Knowing that Draco was overthinking things due to nerves, he shook his head and placed one hand on the railing as he made his way up the stairs.

Stepping onto the 7th floor landing, he chuckled to himself as he remembered the last time he had ordered Potter to meet him outside of lessons. It had been in their first year, when a small Draco had challenged an equally, if not smaller, Harry to a midnight duel. He had, of course, no intention of actually staying well up past curfew just to meet with the little freak. Instead, he had set Potter up and informed Filch that there would possibly be students out of bed during their arranged dueling time. It had gotten a laugh out of him at the time, but now he felt silly and juvenile for having done such a thing.

Standing directly across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, he paced back and forth while thinking, _I need a private place to speak to Potter._ After walking past the empty wall three times, a small door appeared and Draco reached for the handle. Stepping inside, he took in the room. It was a relatively small space with no windows. The soft and welcoming glow of the room came from the hundreds of small candles floating up above his head, similar to the ones in the Great Hall. A small table was placed in the middle of the area with two large, brown, and cozy looking armchairs on either side angled toward each other. One, which was currently being occupied by a skinny boy.

“Malfoy?” Potter bolted up from his seat in surprise and scratched at the back of his head. “What are you doing here?”

Rolling his eyes, Draco made his way over to the empty armchair and gently sat down, crossing his legs at the ankles. “I believe I was the one that asked you to meet me here?”

Potter, who had sat back down in his own seat, shifted uncomfortably. “Well, _yeah_ , but I meant what are you doing here so early?”

Draco turned his head to look at the Gryffindor and shrugged. “What are _you_ doing here so early?”

Harry let out a startled laugh and sank deeper into his seat. “Yeah, okay. Touché,” he muttered. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Draco was just about to speak and tell the prat to hurry the fuck up and tell him about this secret _Order_ of his when suddenly the dark haired boy turned to face him. “Can we call a truce?”

Draco looked up at him in surprise. “A truce? We’d hardly been fighting.” As the words left his mouth, he realized how true it was. For almost two weeks now, not a single hex or a truly offensive insult was thrown between them. Sure, they still called each other petty names, but it was nothing as serious as it used to be. Huh. Funny that.

“Exactly,” Harry said determinedly. “Isn’t it nice?” _Yes, it is_ Draco thought surprisingly. “I’m not saying it has to go on forever, but it would be nice if we could maybe get through the war without clawing at each others throats. I’ve already got enough on my plate what with Voldemort after me…” he trailed off and Draco winced lightly at the use of the Dark Lord’s name. Composing himself, he nodded at Potter.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Potter looked incredulous, like he couldn’t quite believe that Draco had actually agreed to the truce.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Potter. _Okay_. We’ll call a truce.”

Harry’s face broke into a wide grin and he let out a sigh of relief. He held out a hand for Draco to shake and the blond was immediately assaulted with the memory of an 11 year old Draco, extending his small hand out to Harry as he offered his friendship, only to be so humiliatingly denied. Hesitantly, Draco reached forward and grasped Potter’s hands. They were softer than he imagined them to be and he couldn’t help but feel that their hands felt so perfect fitted together. Harry’s smile grew even bigger as he gripped Draco’s hand tighter. “Okay. Brilliant! I mean — yeah. Fantastic.” Draco groaned as he let go of the bespectacled boy’s hand.

“Potter, must you always be so inarticulate?”

“Harry.”

He looked at him. “What?”

“Not Potter. Call me Harry.”

Draco rolled the word around on his tongue. “Harry.” He stopped and grimaced. “No thanks. Doesn’t sound quite right.” Truthfully, he had fantasized about being able to call Potter Harry like he was one of the Gryffindor’s close friends, but now that he had permission to actually call the boy by his given name, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Draco felt like a fraud. They weren’t actually friends. Whatever they had now wasn’t real. It was just because of the truce. Draco was shaken out of his yearning thoughts by Potter snorting.

“Well of course it’s not going to sound right. You’ve only just called me Harry after years of calling me by my surname. It’s fine. I’m still going to call you Draco though.”

He knew the words should’ve sounded foreign coming out of the Gryffindor’s mouth, but Draco couldn’t help but shudder lightly as he replayed the sound of his name coming from Potter’s lips. It sounded so _right._ Clearing his throat, he hastily spoke before his thoughts could trail off in an unwanted direction. “Alright. Now tell me about this Order. Or are we going to be sitting around in here discussing names all night?”

Potter smiled hesitantly and shook his head before leaning in, perched at the very edge of his chair. “Right. So the Order of the Phoenix was started by Dumbledore during the First Wizarding War…”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter is terrified of food. Draco Malfoy is terrified for his life. An unlikely friendship forms when the 2 come together to save each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god. I am so sorry it has been so long! I have been insanely busy lately and have not had time for literally ANYTHING! I so desperately wanted to get a well written chapter 7 up for you guys, but unfortunately I think this may be my worst chapter ever. My plan for this chapter was to add some interactions between Harry and Draco as friends to good friends to best friends(?), but I've had terrible writers block recently along with having basically no free time so I decided to end the chapter where I've ended it. I promise to fill the next chapter up with some more drarry and better writing! I should have some more time to myself now so hopefully I will be able to update this story once a week or maybe even once every few days like I used to. Again, I am so so so sorry for the almost 2 month long hiatus and I hope you enjoy this chapter!  
> I have not proofread this before uploading so I apologize in advance! I will fix it tomorrow when I am less sleepy and more alert :) It's 1 AM here!

Calling a truce with Draco Malfoy was…. interesting to say the least. Though they hadn’t been fighting for some time now, it was still strange and disconcerting to pass each other in the corridors with only a slight nod of the head in greeting or even a smile (from Harry) instead of a sneer or an insult. Harry wasn’t the only one feeling discombobulated by these new turn of events, however. Students and teachers alike noticed that the famous Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy rivalry seemed to have suddenly disappeared. Even Ron and Hermione had noticed, and that was saying something.

It had been 2 weeks since their meeting in the Room of Requirement and Harry was sat in the common room, sock clad feet tucked under him as he warmed himself by the fire. The glow of the fireplace illuminated his new book that he had opened in front of him as he hungrily read page after page of the incredibly cheesy, but informative manual. _Wizards with Wizards: 101 ways to use your wand!_ It was well past midnight, the soft and crackling fire the only noise in the otherwise quiet, barren common room. He had just flipped to a page where a moving picture showed two fit men doing, uh, _things_ , (and how in the _hell_ were they even _doing_ that?) when a stern whisper and a muffled “sorry” grabbed his attention. Quickly snapping the book shut, he pushed himself off the floor and flopped down onto the couch, shoving his book under one of the cushions. He contorted his body to appear as if he had been lounging lazily on the sofa (and _not_ reading a dirty magazine) just as Ron and Hermione stepped into view.

Craning his neck, he sat up in surprise and faced his two friends as they walked over to sit in the individual armchairs opposite of him. “What are you two still doing up?” He asked, trying, but failing, to keep the note of bewilderment out of his voice.

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, silently communicating as they gave one another a _look_ , before turning to Harry.

“Ronald and I couldn’t sleep so we started-” Hermione began and Harry quickly clamped two hands over his ears as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“I really _don’t_ need the details on your sex life, thanks,” Harry hastily rushed out in one breath. Ron spluttered as Hermione turned an impressive shade of red.

“We were just _talking!_ ” She shrieked, face as bright as Ron’s hair. Blinking open one eye, he stared back and forth between them warily before slowly lowering his hands and nodding.

“Sorry. Go on,” he gestured for her to continue and leaned on the cushion hiding his book.

“Right,” she cleared her throat as her cheeks slowly returned to her normal color. “Ron and I were just wondering if everything was alright?” Her voice lilted up on the last word, transforming what would have been a statement into a question. Suddenly alert, Harry sat rigidly in his seat.

“What’d you mean?” He asked, trying to keep the note of panic out of his voice.

Ron spoke then, running a hand through his flaming red hair. “Well, we’ve sort of noticed that you’ve been _friendly_ with Malfoy and he hasn’t exactly been the nasty little ferret he usually is…” he trailed off and looked towards Hermione in a silent plea for help.

Sliding back in the conversation easily, she said in a crisp, but gentle voice, “and we were curious as to how this… friendship came about.” She gave him a small, forced smile.

Harry briefly closed his eyes, thanking Merlin that his friends hadn’t been asking about his diet. Letting out a breath of relief, he opened his eyes again and spoke. “We just called a truce is all. Nothing more to it.” He shrugged.

Ron’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head and even Hermione looked flabbergasted. “A t _ruce?_ ” Ron echoed in a louder than necessary voice. The bushy haired brunette sitting next to him threw him a scolding glare as she brought a finger up to her lips to mimic a ‘shush,’ but his freckly friend ignored her as he continued. “A truce!” He repeated again. “With that evil little git? Why? Since when?”

Harry shrugged, feeling annoyance and a strange new sense of protectiveness flaring up inside of him as the redhead insulted Draco. “Lay off him Ron,” he said in a soft, but strict voice.

Even more bewildered than ever, Ron looked back and forth between Harry and Hermione, mouth opening and closing as he looked like a fish out of water. Hermione, who looked more put together than her boyfriend, hesitated and bit her bottom lip nervously before scooting up further in her chair. “Harry,” she said in a guilty voice. “I know Ron and I have been caught up in our own things, but that doesn’t mean you should go making friends with Malfoy of all people. You can still talk to us you know. It feels like we haven’t had a proper conversation in ages.”

A strong surge of anger coursed through his body as he listened in disbelief at the words coming out of Hermione’s mouth. Bolting up out of his seat, he glared down at his two friends, who seemed taken aback by his abrupt reaction. “And who’s fault is that?” He asked in a cold voice that could rival that of Snape’s. “It’s always Ron and Hermione this! And Ron and Hermione that! Never Ron, Hermione, and Harry. You two haven’t given a rat’s arse about me or my life since the beginning of term!” His voice was steadily rising as his two friends were steadily shrinking back into their chairs. “If you had even bothered to talk to me, you would know that Malfoy, _the evil little git_ ,” he mocked, “has been on _our_ side for over a month now! _That’s_ why we called a truce,” he spat as he glared daggers down at the other two Gryffindors. “And _Draco_ ,” he put emphasis on the word, “has been more of a mate to me than you two have been.” That last bit wasn’t necessarily true, but Harry did have to admit that he’s talked to Draco more times than Ron and Hermione, and wasn’t _that_ a shock.

“Harry…” Regaining her sense of speech, Hermione extended a hand to reach for Harry’s but he quickly took a step back.

“I’m going for a walk,” he said in a stony voice that Draco would be proud of.

“Mate, wait…” Ron called, but Harry was already halfway out of the common room and he let out a small, satisfied smile when the portrait slammed shut with a loud bang! behind him.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The next morning brought the first snow of the season and Harry was feeling infinitely better than he had the night before. Laying in bed, he looked up at the ceiling as he replayed his outburst from the night before. Harry felt marginally guilty for blowing up like that at his two friends, but he had to admit it felt good to finally get his suppressed feelings out in the open.

After leaving the common room, he had walked aimlessly through the corridors for what felt like hours, before finally deciding to head up to the astronomy tower. It was nice to bask in the moonlight as he sat alone on the ledge, looking out over Scotland. With the full moon lighting the night sky, Harry had vaguely wondered to himself what Remus was doing now. That in turn, had his thoughts heading towards Sirius as he remembered his godfather changing into his animagus form in Harry’s third year, trying to keep his werewolf friend at bay. He gazed silently at the moon, wondering to himself how everything had gone to shit so quickly. It was at times like this that Harry wished he had never been born. Life was just so unfair.

His parents were dead. Cedric was dead. Sirius was dead. Remus was gone. Ron and Hermione no longer cared. And oh yeah, Voldemort was back and hellbent on killing Harry. He felt so out of control of his own life and he desperately wished he could have someone to turn to. _Well_ , he thought bitterly. _The lavatory will always be there for me_. He let out a harsh laugh that sounded much too loud in the silent tower and he sighed before dropping down from the ledge.

After that, he had taken to strolling around the corridor’s once more, not quite ready to head back to the common room in case Ron or Hermione were still up, and instead had gone to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. He honestly hadn’t known why his steps had led him to the lavatory, but it was a comforting place nonetheless. Though he hadn’t felt the need to purge, seeing the row of toilets had tempted him and he slowly walked over to one before kneeling down in front of it. It was disgusting, he knew. Disgusting and wrong and unhealthy, but it just felt _so good_. And Harry deserved to have some good in his life didn’t he? With that thought in mind, he had proceeded to lean over the toilet as he attempted to purge. It wasn’t very easy though because he had hardly ate anything that night, and what he _did_ eat, he had already expelled before. Still, Harry tried his best. It felt _wonderful_ to be in control.

Clearing his head, Harry sat up in bed and hesitantly opened the curtains that were drawn around him. The dorm room was thankfully empty and Harry cast a quick _tempus_ charm to see that it was well past 10. His dorm mates along with the rest of Gryffindor tower were probably down at breakfast or lounging around in the common room. Oh _fuck_. Last night. The common room. Book. Sofa. Cushion.

Bolting up from the bed, Harry shivered slightly as he wrapped a fluffy robe around him, too panicked to bother changing into more decent clothes, and hurriedly rushed down the stairs. A few of the younger students looked up at his disheveled form in alarm, but he paid them no mind as he hastily strode across the common room and lifted the cushion from the couch he had been sitting on last night. His heart dropped when he saw nothing but empty space occupying the seat under the pillow and he quickly dropped to his hands and knees, peering under the sofa in the hopes that maybe, just _maybe_ , the book had somehow fallen.

A feeling of dread washed over him as he tried desperately to locate the book. Just as he was about to burst out into hysterical tears, he felt a small tap on his shoulder and he whipped around, ready to tell a starstruck first year to _bugger the fuck off_. Instead, he was met with Ginny’s wide smile.

“Looking for something?” She asked in an amused voice. Her hazel eyes were alight with mischief as she stared at Harry expectantly.

“Oh, Ginny. Yeah, er, just my Potions textbook is all.” He nervously ran a hand through his sleep mused hair as his eyes darted around the students occupying the common room, trying in vain to see if anyone might’ve picked his copy of _Wizards with Wizards_ up.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “You do realize Snape has spares in his cupboard?” She smiled at him again, staring at Harry with a knowing look in her eyes.

Trying desperately not to let his panic show, Harry let out a bark of forced laughter that sounded fake even to his own ears as he brought his attention back to the girl standing in front of him. “Oh, right. Um, it’s just that this copy is really special to me.” He winced slightly as the words left his mouth. Ginny was much too smart and Harry was too much of a terrible liar.

The youngest Weasley looked at him in disbelief before snorting. “Is that really the best you could do? _I’ve lost my Potions book! This copy is really special to me_ ,” she mocked before breaking into a fit of giggles.

Annoyed that she had seen through his admittedly horrible lie, he crossed his arms and let out a sigh. “Look Ginny. I’ve lost something important and I need to find it before someone else does,” he said in a tired voice. He uncrossed his arms and rubbed a hand down his face.

Ginny, who had thankfully stopped laughing, stared at Harry solemnly before leaning in closer to whisper, “ _Wizards with Wizards?_ ”

The dark haired Gryffindor took a small, startled step back as he ogled Ginny with wide eyes. “What?” He asked in a choked voice.

“Don’t be daft, Harry.” She let out a small sigh before sitting down on the sofa and patting the open space next to her. Harry hesitantly sat down and stared hard at the rugged floor, unable to bring himself to look her in the eyes. “I heard you arguing with Ron and Hermione last night,” Ginny continued, “and I came down once I heard the portrait slam. Ron told me the gist of it, but Hermione was really upset and went back up to bed.” She paused and stared at Harry, waiting for him to say something, but he remained silent and she blew out a small breath. “I told him off for being a right git to you, and I would’ve told Hermione too, but of course she was gone by then. Anyway, he left eventually, but I stayed down there for a little while longer and that’s when I found your book. I didn’t know it belonged to you at the time, but the way you practically threw yourself down the stairs earlier and ravaged the common room, well, I imagined you were looking for something,” she finished.

As Ginny had retold her story, Harry had grown paler and paler and he hastily thought of ways he could explain the book to her without giving himself away. “I-” he started lamely.  
“

No need to explain,” Ginny said as she produced the book seemingly out of nowhere and handed it to Harry. “I kind of figured, actually.” At that, Harry whipped his head up at her in shock.

“You what?” He asked.

Ginny smiled gently at him and spoke in a soft voice, “It’s fairly obvious to anyone who pays attention, Harry.”

He continued to stare at her in shock and panic. “It’s… _obvious?_ ” Harry choked out.

Sensing his rising alarm, Ginny hastily reached for his hand and squeezed tightly. “No, no!” She let out a small breath and looked away nervously, tucking a strand of bright red hair behind her ear. “I only noticed because _I_ was spending so much time observing you.” She chuckled and shook her head slightly. “I was obsessed with you, as I’m sure you know. The great Harry Potter.” Ginny looked up and gently knocked his shoulder with her own before smiling. “I won’t tell a soul, if that’s what you’re so freaked out about. You should tell Ron and Hermione though. They’re your mates. Even if they are acting like total arse’s to you right now.”

Harry blew out a breath and leaned back against the sofa, closing his eyes and drinking in Ginny’s words. T _here is absolutely no way I am going to tell them_. Slowly shaking his head, he let out another sigh before opening his eyes and turning to stare at Ginny. She was peering at him with warmth and concern in her hazel eyes and Harry couldn’t help but wish he had fallen for her instead. Everything would have been so much easier. Ginny was a lovely girl with a lovely family and they could have had the most magnificent life together. Instead, he was a freak who liked blokes. A freak who found comfort in toilets rather than people.

Ginny was still staring at him kindly and Harry, realizing that he had gotten lost in thought, cleared his throat and threw her a tight smile before speaking. “Yeah, I’ll tell them eventually.”

The youngest Weasley returned his smile easily and scooted closer to him before wrapping her arms around Harry’s shoulders. Leaning in, Harry rested his chin on her own shoulder and closed his eyes again. _Yes, he absolutely could not — and would not — tell anybody, anything._


	8. A long overdue update

To everyone who has ever given this story the time of day:

Thank you so, so, so much. And I am absolutely, SO incredibly sorry I haven't updated in almost a year. Life hit me like a ton of bricks and to be completely honest, this story was at the very bottom of my "To-Do List." That and I seemed to have hit a MAJOR writer's block. I've tried to sit and finish the next chapter multiple times throughout this past year, but I just couldn't do it. I would write a few sentences or a few paragraphs, but end up backspacing everything because I wasn't proud, happy, or content with where I was taking the story or how I was writing it. I should've at least posted an update saying I was taking a hiatus, but I put it off, hoping that I would get inspired again. I actually wrote the first 6 chapters of this story in about a week I think and I remember sitting in my dark room typing away at 1, 2, 3, even 4 in the morning every night and pounding out chapters left and right. But for some reason, I lost my momentum after those first 6 chapters and was clueless as to where to take the characters next. Anyway, that's not important. Just thought I would share that fun little fact :)

I looked through the comments on this story and again, I just want to thank every single one of you for being SO sweet and kind! Your comments made my day(s) then and they've made my day again now. Though I can't promise a proper, structured uploading schedule, I think I'm almost ready to update this story! I've been working on chapter 8 on and off again for about 3 months now and I'm about 40%-50% of the way done with it if I decide I like what im writing lol. I hope my writing style hasn't changed and everything still flows the same because it's been so long since I last worked on this!! Unfortunately for me, when I stopped writing last year, I didn't leave myself any notes or clues as to where I was taking the story, so if I told you something was going to happen later on in the story, I'm not sure how accurate that will be anymore. I'm sorry!

Anyway, I know I've said it multiple times already, but I'm so sorry again for leaving you all hanging, and if any of my readers are still here, thank you so, so, so much for being so patient. I will get this next chapter out as soon as possible. I think Draco and Harry are getting impatient too. They want their stories to be heard! ;) 

Thank you, sorry, and I love you all! See you soon (hopefully) xoxo

 

-royalwatson


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